


Tainted Love

by twistedmiracle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward first time sex, M/M, Medical Abuse, Oral Sex, abuse by Healer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 31,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic complete!</p><p>Important note: Non-Con is NOT between Harry and Draco!</p><p>Summary: First Mother wanted her wand back. Then Harry returned his hawthorne wand, but it didn't really... work. Not well. So he went to France and bought a wand from the very best French wandmaker. What the hell is he supposed to do when that one doesn't work right either? The private Healer had better be able to help him with his sluggish magic.</p><p>I must thank StGulik for a tremendous beta job, and ReadyPlayerZero for absolutely necessary and irreplaceable html assistance. Thank you so much, both of you! Any remaining errors are mine alone!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As implied by the tags, Draco encounters a real asshole early on in the fic. But Draco gets away from him, and Harry never abuses Draco.

“The Healer will see you now.”

The Healer stood gracefully, shook Mother’s hand, and introduced himself. He looked nice. Tall, with sandy hair and brown eyes. Maybe thirty? Draco’s blood rushed in his ears and he didn’t hear a word.

Draco and Mother sat on the edge of their expensive chairs. The small medical office was tastefully decorated. Instead of paintings, there were framed photos on the walls: slowly swaying palm trees and quietly lapping waves. The chairs were sleek metal and black leather. The examination table in the middle looked brand new, like it had been delivered that morning. The second-floor windows had real, cloth curtains, because they looked down onto a real street. No faked, magical scenes here. The sunny, summer view of a well-appointed neighborhood was quite real.

It was nothing like St. Mungo’s, which was both comforting and distressing. It was one thing to see an expensive, private Healer because one preferred to do so. It was altogether another to see an expensive, private Healer, even a young, handsome one, because one expected St Mungo’s to turf one out the door as soon as they saw your hair. Or your name.

Mother had told the Healer what she had seen, Draco had explained his own perspective far more succinctly, and then he had answered a long list of questions. About all his wands. About the war. About when he had been at Hogwarts and how much time he’d been forced to spend in the Manor. About who else had been in the Manor. About the kinds of magic he’d watched those witches and wizards cast. 

He spoke to the floor, mostly. He was so ashamed. At one point Mother tried to take his hand, but he wriggled discreetly away. He wouldn’t let her make him into a baby. Bad enough that he’d become a weak wizard, as well as a fool who had been fooled.

Finally he knew, embarrassed but determined, he had to cast.

“So this is what it looks like when I cast _Lumos_ with this new wand,” Draco finished, and he sent a weak glow into the room. The light sputtered into view and died quickly, as the three of them stared at it. 

“I know what I suspect,” replied the handsome young Healer. “But in order to be certain, I will have to do some tests. I must warn you, some of them are… invasive. Mrs Malfoy, I am going to need you to wait outside.”

Nervous, Draco nodded at Mother, who raised one eyebrow, but left the room without further comment.

“You will need to completely disrobe,” the Healer said. “Even your socks. Then you can lie face down on this table and pull this sheet over you. I will let you know when I am about to come back in.”

Draco nodded and, when the Healer left the room, he disrobed as quickly as he could. He did not want to get caught half-naked, pulling off one sock.

Once he was completely nude, Draco picked up the folded sheet and opened it. It was white, made of soft cotton. It felt thin on his skin, almost see-through. But he pulled it around his shoulders like a cloak, and climbed awkwardly onto the high table. Then he arranged himself, belly down, face turned to the side so he would see the door open. He’d only managed to wrangle the sheet up over his shoulders and down over his toes just in time, he was sure, and nervously waited for the Healer’s return. 

But the Healer did not open the door right after Draco got himself up onto the table. Instead, nothing happened. 

Draco turned his head to see a shiny, silver clock. The second hand was on the ten, and it clicked methodically through the seconds as Draco watched, calming his breathing and trying not to worry what the Healer might mean by “invasive tests.” This was magic, not a grudge match. There was nothing on Draco’s arm (any more) and he and mother had both been (grudgingly) acquitted with Potter’s glowing testimony making all the difference. Not to mention, they were paying a pretty penny to be treated with deference. Surely “invasive” just meant the Healer would push the tip of his wand into a muscle, or something. Surely?

Where the hell was that Healer? It had been seventy-eight seconds since Draco had put his eyes on that damn clock. He knew it was almost certainly his imagination, but the ticking of the second hand seemed to be getting louder. Draco closed his eyes and took yet another deep breath. Then he opened them and watched the second hand click endlessly around.

Two minutes and forty-four seconds after Draco had rushed himself onto the table, the Healer knocked loudly once, and then opened the door. 

“Very good,” he said dismissively, and then began to gather objects Draco couldn’t see. “I must ask,” he asked from behind Draco, “if you have ever had penetrative sex with a man?”

“What?” Draco squeaked. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

The Healer rested his overlarge palms on Draco’s covered ankles. His hands were warm, then uncomfortably hot. Draco strove to listen to the Healer’s words and ignore his touch. “Well, I believe you have a condition known formally as ‘blocked pure and neutral magical release,’” he said. “We usually refer to it as a Tarred Blockage. Basically, Mr Malfoy, you spent many of the months of your late adolescence around the tarriest and stickiest of Tainted Magic. Worse, you did so while holding a barely adequate wand. This means, I believe, that your own magic has been blocked from release by a… we’ll call it a ‘layer’ of Tainted Magic. This Tainted Magic is… it is much as though it is sitting on your skin, making it hard for you to cast your own magic. At least, that is what I believe these tests will confirm. 

“The only really effective way to remove this layer of contamination is via sex magic. In particular, you will need to have a very proscribed kind of sex, with a man who ejaculates what we call “Pure Magic,” along with his semen. You will need to face away from this man while he uses your anal opening for intercourse, and before he ejaculates into your anus, hopefully very deeply, you must orgasm into a special cloth. Your orgasm will first remove some of the layer of Tainted Magic, and then his will replace it with Pure Magic.”

The Healer released Draco’s ankles. Draco pushed his burning face into the pillow. “Well, in that case, er, no,” Draco managed to say. “I’m a virgin with girls ... and, er, boys. I’ve never had any kind of sex at all.” Self-conscious, he thought to defend himself. He was only eighteen. Surely that wasn’t all that old to still be a virgin? But he stayed silent, telling himself he didn’t care what the Healer thought.

“I see,” the Healer said. “Then this should be quite the experience.” He pulled a black square from a drawer. “I’m going to wrap this around your penis. It will masturbate you, and then bring you fully to orgasm. Roll over.”

Draco didn’t see why he couldn’t wrap the thing around his dick himself, but the Healer loomed over him and he didn’t have the courage to object. Pushing himself up slightly on one elbow, he exposed himself as briefly as possible. The Healer’s eyes glittered, and he looked at Draco for a long moment before he reached out to touch him. 

Draco couldn’t help it. When the Healer made contact with his cock, he rolled right onto the man’s hand. But this was a horrible miscalculation, as the Healer just took his time settling the cloth around him and rubbing him with it before finally extracting his hand. Draco was fairly certain that he hid his miserable gasp in the thin pillow under his face.

“The spell to trigger the cloth is ‘Enter’,” the Healer said, but Draco was distracted by multiple spells washing over his skin. It took a moment before he noticed that the spell on the masturbation cloth was unusually aggressive. It rubbed him up and down, squeezed his cock, teased at his balls, thoroughly addressing his current state of shriveled horror and embarrassment. It felt good, but it also felt like a large piece of magical silk was masturbating him in a Healer’s office, and Draco tried not to squirm in discomfort--or, for that matter, in delight. He wasn’t really sure which description was more correct, or more awful. 

Soon Draco was fully hard, and extremely glad that he was face down, and that the surface of the exam table was very squashy and soft. His cock had gone quickly from its very smallest to its very largest state, and if he had not been lying down before the process began, he suspected he would have _had to_ lie down while the little spell-cloth did its work, just from the swiftly shifting blood flow.

The experience with the spell-cloth meant that Draco was barely aware of anything else that the Healer’s spells might have been doing. However, now that it was done getting his cock completely erect, he thought he could feel something warm and wet drip slowly from his arsehole. He buried his face into the pillow once again.

“As I suspected,” the Healer said, “I have measured your Tainted Magic levels, and they are shockingly high. You have a ninety-four percent Tainted rating for the surface of your skin. That is actually a body-wide average, though. It’s actually nearing one hundred percent around your hands and mouth. It’s a bit lower around your feet. I am going to need to perform that sex act I mentioned earlier, and see what that does for your Tainted Magic levels.”

Draco nearly came off the table. “What?” he nearly screamed. “You’re going to fuck me?”


	2. Chapter 2

“I certainly could,” the Healer said, sounding almost matter-of-fact. “I was rather assuming that would be your course of treatment, should this test prove my theory correct. I have a very high level of Pure Magic in my semen, as it happens. Many healers do. I’ve performed this particular healing function for others before you. But for this first experience, I was planning to use a simulacrum. It gives me an exact reading of the magic it releases within your body, you see.” He pulled something from a drawer and turned, showing it to Draco. It looked rather like… a fake penis. Draco swallowed.

“It might resemble a dildo to you? To use the vernacular.” The Healer chuckled, a smug, unpleasant sound. He hefted the thing in one hand, bringing it closer to Draco’s face. It was a plain white cylinder with a wide, square base. Draco couldn’t tell what it could be made of, but he felt the Healer’s shrewd eyes on him and he nodded once, not sure what he was agreeing to. The Healer smiled and moved toward Draco’s bum.

“I… I see…” Draco said faintly. Horrified, he felt the Healer open the bottom sections of the bed, spread his legs apart, remove the sheet from his legs and arse, and cup the globes of his arse with his bare hands. Thankfully, Draco’s erection was still hidden in the squashy covering of the exam table. The silk was still caressing him there, and this, he was sure, was the only reason he was still hard after this hideously distressing, embarrassing explanation.

“Now,” the Healer said, sounding almost jovial, “I have measured your magic levels precisely, and I have an exact reading on the magic currently contained in the simulacrum. Unfortunately, magic that isn’t delivered directly from a wizard doesn’t get integrated and retained well, so this device isn’t a long term solution, but it should give us very good readings in the short term, and that is what is required for a solid diagnosis. Of course, if you would like an immediate improvement in your ability to cast spells, I could perform this healing service personally. As it were. I’m already quite confident that this is your true illness. So, which would you prefer?”

“The… the dildo please,” Draco said, utterly miserable.

“Hm, really? Well, I suppose that’s all right,” the Healer said. But he sounded disappointed, the perverted bastard. 

“Since you are a virgin,” the Healer said next, and then he slid what felt like a finger into Draco’s arse. The squelching, wet noises the Healer was making were revolting, and having a stranger’s finger, no, make that two fingers, fucking his arse was the least happy thing that had happened to Draco in weeks, but he didn’t make a sound. He just buried his face in the pillow and tried to pretend that he was alone. That the feeling of fingers stretching his arse open were a spell, just like the square of silk which was still jerking him off.

Soon the Healer had three fingers in Draco’s wet arse, and he knew he couldn’t possibly get harder.

“I believe you are appropriately stretched. I will now increase the spell on your penis. You must tell me when you have an orgasm,” the Healer said, “and at that time, I will release the Pure Magic from the simulacrum.”

Draco nodded into the pillow, and then felt something cold and firm prodding his newly loosened arsehole. The thing managed to open him, and then it was sliding into his body. It felt neither particularly good, nor particularly bad. But when the spell on his cock attacked in earnest, and then the dildo started to actually fuck him, Draco started to lose his mind with physical excitement and emotional turmoil. 

He didn’t want to make a sound. He didn’t want to give this horrible, perverted Healer any sexual gratification. How had he ever interpreted that horrible man’s cruel face as _handsome_?

But – despite the fact that what was fucking him was probably made out of rubber and definitely no more than eight or nine inches long at most, the dildo had found his prostate, all the magic was trying to bring him off, and it was _working_. “Oh,” he breathed into the pillow. “Oh….”

The Healer’s hands were still pulling Draco’s arse cheeks apart, but otherwise it was like he wasn’t there at all. “Oh….” The Healer wasn’t moving his hands, or speaking, and Draco tried hard to ignore him. “Oh….” The faster he had an orgasm, the sooner this experience would be over. Right? “Ohh….” The pleasure stacked and built, despite the hideously awkward and uncomfortable circumstances, and Draco knew that he would come soon, despite everything. “Ohh, I’m… coming!” Draco hissed into the pillow, and the silken spell pulled and caressed and sucked an orgasm out of his balls and into the fabric.

“Very good,” the Healer said in an unctuous voice, and that’s when he released the Pure Magic from the simulacrum and it flooded Draco’s body. If he hadn’t just had quite a powerful orgasm, that would have been what tipped him over. He almost thought he _could_ have come again, just from the intense gratification of the feeling of that cleansing, purifying magic rocketing into his veins. His body went rigid as the dildo fucked and filled him, and then – when it was all over – he crumpled onto the table and felt the Healer pull the dildo from his arse. The cloth slipped out from underneath him. Draco couldn’t see it well, but it still looked like a plain black square.

The Healer cleaned Draco up, put the bottom sections of the table back together and pulled the sheet back over his arse and legs. Then he put Draco’s new French wand into his hand. “Try Lumos,” he said quietly, and while the Healer washed him with diagnostic spells again, Draco cast. 

It was nothing compared to what he’d once been capable of, but nonetheless, it was the brightest _Lumos_ Draco had cast in months. He watched it fade slowly while the Healer cast spells, made calculations, and dumped the dildo into a small cauldron of antiseptic cleaning potion.

“It is exactly as I thought,” remarked the Healer. “You are indeed covered with a tarry infestation of Tainted Magic, and this experiment shows it unambiguously. The good news, though, is that – perhaps because of your youth – the treatment I described earlier should work very well for you. You released a larger than ordinary amount of Tainted Magic into the cloth, and then accepted quite a high percentage of the Pure Magic from the simulacrum. I would add one caveat, though,” he said, looking down at his papers. “You should also be receiving Pure Magic into your mouth. So when you return for your first treatment, I will help you perform fellatio upon me. Or, ‘a blowjob,’ as this is called in the vernacular.” The Healer revealed a thin, greedy smile, then wiped his face clean of emotion.

“I shall be seeking another wizard, actually,” Draco said to the floor. 

“Oh?” the Healer said mildly. He raised one eyebrow and turned his head away for a moment. Draco was pretty sure he was wiping off an ugly sneer. “Well, of course, that is your prerogative.” He turned back toward Draco and his face was once again completely blank. “But you have to understand you can’t do this with just _anyone_. You’ll need a wizard with a high level of Pure Magic in his ejaculate. Do you think you will be able to find a wizard like that, who will want to… treat you?”

“Oh,” Draco said quietly, “I have an idea.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The Healer left the room through a side door, perhaps to avoid Draco’s mother. Sighing quietly, Draco got off the table and dressed as quickly as he was able. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was being watched. 

His trousers were a bit wrinkled, and he would have liked to fix that with his wand, but – though he tried the spell twice – he couldn’t do much about it. That dildo’s “infusion” had, indeed, completely faded. Draco needed to secure a Pure Magic donor, and soon. Then, he knew, he had to bring that man back to the hospital to get his ejaculate tested, and experience who knows what else invasive, embarrassing, and downright awful tests in addition.

It was a pity that no one owed him any favours. Nonetheless, he did, as he’d told the Healer, have someone in mind.

He slipped out of the exam room and saw his mother waiting calmly, tatting lace and ignoring the people around her. “We can go, Mother,” he said quietly, and she stood and swept him through the doors.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day dawned bright and lovely, and Draco woke very early. He’d slept only about five hours, but when his eyes flew open he knew there would be no more sleep for him that morning. He had a task to complete, and a potentially enormous favour to ask. He needed to prepare.

Draco realized very quickly that his wardrobe was completely wrong. He didn’t think he was capable of waiting a few hours until the shops opened, though, so he called for Tappy and a stack of Muggle fashion magazines Draco’s father had confiscated from his room a few years before.

Between Tappy’s magic and Draco’s fashion sense, they managed to cobble together a Muggle-style outfit that Draco thought looked quite good on him. Then he choked down two pieces of buttered toast, cleaned his teeth and Flooed to wizarding London.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Even in July, Diagon Alley was extremely quiet at six-thirty in the morning. But Draco could see that – just as he had hoped – quite a few shops had proprietors visible inside, beginning their days. Shop-keeping was hands-on, hard work, Draco suspected. He wasn’t surprised to see that it required long days. 

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had some lights on and movement inside when Draco paused in front of the door to knock. How would he be received? 

“Just one way to find out,” he muttered quietly, and knocked before he could talk himself out of it. 

“We’re closed!” came a sharp, feminine voice, but Draco’s white-blond hair was visible through the glass, and it was an intrigued and almost amused ginger that opened the door to Draco a few long minutes after his second loud knock.

“George Weasley?” Draco said to the man casually leaning against the door jamb, holding his wand between them like a wall. Draco had wondered if his injury would be distracting, but Weasley had grown out his fluffy hair to be so messy as to rival Potter’s own, and neither ear – or lack thereof – was at all visible.

“The one and only,” Weasley agreed with a fierce smile, and Draco swallowed. Blunt honesty was best with Gryffindors, but that didn’t make it his strong suit.

“I came to apologize,” Draco said, “and then to ask a favour.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Just come through, Harry, and I’ll explain in person, all right?” Weasley ended the Floo call and gave Draco an enigmatic smile. When the flames died down and Harry Potter’s confused face disappeared he asked Draco a second time if he was “sure you don’t want a cuppa?” 

“I’m much too nervous to drink anything,” Draco forced himself to admit. Brutal, human honesty – as he had hoped – worked remarkably well with Weasley. He could only hope it would work as well with Potter. He could only hope to continue to manage to produce it. His entire intestine felt like one huge burning knot, and as yet he’d barely accomplished any of the things he’d set out to do this morning. 

“Well, Verity and I would like some, and I know Harry would as well. He’s sure to be here soon. He just wanted to dress first. You are here pretty early in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep any more,” Draco admitted. “I needed to do this before I lost my nerve.”

“Sure you can’t tell me what you need Harry to do for you?” Weasley asked again as he began to make a pot of tea.

“It’s awfully personal,” Draco said to the floor. “I don’t think it would be fair to Potter to talk about it. Just in case he agrees.”

“Horribly embarrassing, eh?” Weasley grinned. He handed Draco a cup of fragrant, plain black tea -- despite Draco’s refusal moments before, and then looked into Draco’s face. “Oh Merlin,” he said, sounding apologetic, “it is embarrassing, isn’t it? Sorry. Didn’t mean to be an arse.”

“George? Malfoy?” Potter stepped through the Floo. He was wearing denims and scuffed trainers. Draco couldn’t make himself look any higher to check the shirt. 

“Hallo, Harry. Have a cuppa,” Weasley said, and passed over a cup of tea. “Milk and sugar are in the cupboard. You two can be assured of privacy here in the lab. It’s warded to the gills to protect against _industrial espionage_.” He spoke the last two words in a funny accent that Draco couldn’t place, but he sensed it was meant to both downplay and emphasize the truth of the situation. He found it wasn’t hard to believe that competitors would be a problem in a business like this. Weasley took two cups of tea and headed back into the shop, closing the door softly behind him.

Draco cupped his hands around the thin porcelain and warmed his freezing fingers. Since his face was burning, he did not bother to sip the tea, he just held onto it. He looked at Harry Potter’s shoes and swallowed again. From Potter’s knees, he could see that the other bloke had sat down across from him. 

Draco had thanked Potter for his testimony some weeks previous, and for returning his wand. Draco’s mother had received thanks in return from Potter, for the lie she had told the Dark Lord. Officially, Potter had a standing invitation to tea at the Manor that no one believed he would ever bother to accept. Draco took a deep breath and slowly let it out, but no words came after.

There was nothing left to do except explain what that slimy Healer had told Draco, and ask Potter if he, by any chance, and don’t mind the pretty ginger girlfriend, might be willing to bugger Draco constantly for months until he could cast a proper spell once again. He tried to form the first sentence in his mind, but all he could think about were Potter’s scuffed shoes.

“Malfoy?” Potter said, confused, and Draco swallowed once more, only to feel the knot of his intestines wriggle like a mass of mating snakes. Why couldn’t he do this? Why couldn’t he speak? He’d gone to so much trouble to organize this meeting.

Hands shaking, mouth seemingly spelled shut, Draco put the cup down on the floor, and stared at Potter’s shoes for a few more heartbeats. He put his hands in his hair and tried to get himself together. He would _not_ cry, damn his feelings all to hell. He would not!

“Malfoy?” Potter said again. “I assume this is pretty important?”

Then Draco thought of something, and – hope finally loosening the knots in his gut – he raised his eyes almost to Potter’s chin. “I can’t speak it,” he said at last. “Do you have a Pensieve?”

Weasley did not have a Pensieve in his shop. The Pensieve that Potter owned was apparently ludicrously old, heavy, and precious. It could not be transported. Potter was reluctant to allow Draco though the Floo into his massively warded home, but when Draco offered to leave his new, French wand at Weasley’s shop, Potter relaxed a bit.

“But,” he scratched his head, “where is the one I returned to you?” He frowned when he asked. But he didn’t look annoyed that Draco would have abandoned something Harry had gone to some trouble to return. Instead, he looked concerned.

“The memories will explain,” Draco mumbled, still staring at Potter’s knees. He allowed Potter to cast a few spells to reassure himself that Draco carried nothing that could hurt anyone. 

Then they were in Potter’s house, and – while part of Draco was intensely curious – he couldn’t quite bring himself to look up and look around. He did see that the carpet was old and dirty, but he managed not to comment on it.

“It’s er,” Potter paused. “It’s upstairs. Please follow me.”

Draco followed Potter’s old trainers up a worn wooden staircase and into a room close to the top of the stairs. The carpet was thick and had been very expensive, once upon a time. But that time had been decades before. It was dark blue, but it faded nearly to grey under the window where the Pensieve sat on a stone pedestal. 

“I don’t have a wand,” Draco said miserably. He had no idea how to put a memory into a Pensieve without one.

“I can help,” Potter said, and he raised his wand to Draco’s temple. Concentrating hard, Draco brought first one, then another memory to the fore, and when had they swirled into the Pensieve, he took a deep breath.

“I think that should be enough,” he said, and to his surprise, Potter took Draco’s hand into his own, and they entered the Pensieve together.


	5. Chapter 5

_“I don’t know, Mother.”_ Draco watched himself, standing at the window of his own bedroom, looking out at the summer garden and trying not to pout or whine.

Potter and Draco had landed in the corner. Potter let go of Draco’s hand and took a step closer to the window, then stopped.

Draco watched himself turn toward his mother. _“I thought the problem was the wand Potter returned to me. It seemed obvious that it never really returned an allegiance to me. But Chretien assures me that this new wand isn’t defective, and that it really is my proper match, so I just don’t know why my magic feels so horribly…” He looked down at his French wand and frowned. “Sluggish.”_

_“I agree,” Narcissa Malfoy frowned. “Something is wrong, but it isn’t that wand.” She sighed. “I really thought your problems would be solved when Potter returned your old wand. Where is it now?”_

_“I put it away in that lovely silver wand box. The one grandmother gave me for my eleventh birthday.”_

_“Of course,” Narcissa agreed. “Let’s go look at it?”_

_But no matter what they thought to try, Draco’s magic responded slowly at best, so Narcissa made an appointment for her son, and Draco and his mother traveled to meet with the private Healer the next afternoon._

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Their surroundings swirled around them, and Draco’s clean, sunny bedroom became a sparkling white exam room. Draco couldn’t watch as the nasty Healer pontificated, then sent Mother away, then all but raped Draco.

So instead, he watched Potter’s face. 

First, he watched as Potter became concerned, then embarrassed. For a moment, while they waited for the Healer to return, Potter fidgeted, which made him appear to be slightly agitated, or possibly bored. But when the Healer explained what he was going to do, and then did it, Potter’s face wore an increasingly desperate mixture of horror and sexual excitement. 

Draco moved carefully inside the memory in such a way as to make it impossible for him to see the Healer’s face. But Potter wasn’t looking at him, or at the Healer. He was staring at the dildo. Potter was staring at Draco’s bare arse. Potter was, Draco observed, getting hard.


	6. Chapter 6

When the scene ended and they found themselves back in Potter’s dim old house, Draco wasn’t sure how to proceed. He hadn’t realized – until he was back inside the memory – how traumatic it would be to watch the Healer treat him that way. On the other hand, Potter had clearly gotten turned on while watching Draco get a solid, hard fucking from a magical dildo. Potter had clearly liked the look of his bare legs and arse. Potter had reacted every time he’d heard Draco utter that sobbing little “oh” sound. That had been the reason he’d suggested the viewing in the first place, and he’d apparently been right to do it.

Now Draco sat in a shabby wing-backed chair and looked at Potter’s feet. Potter started to pace. No one said anything for a long, tense moment.

Finally Draco thought of something to say. “Thank you for viewing my memory, Potter. I appreciate it. I was glad to have someone there with me the second time. I only wish you could have been there the first time.”

“Of course,” Potter said, and he made a fist and pounded it into his other palm. “That man is a monster and it’s my responsibility to save you. First, we should go to Kingsley. Or maybe Hermione?”

“No!” Draco responded with horror. “I don’t want you to help me like _that_! I want you to help me like, I mean… there’s another way you could help me.”

“You, I, what?” Potter turned and faced Draco, and Draco tried to look him in the eye. He managed it, just long enough to see that Potter seemed incredulous.

“Don’t you want that, man, that… what a horrible man! And he… he treated you like garbage! Don’t you want to go to the law?”

“I’d rather he hadn’t treated me like that, yes,” Draco said quietly, looking Potter square in the nose. “And I hope to manage it so he’ll never treat me like that again. But no, I don’t think the legal authorities would be of any assistance. Instead, I was hoping to find another, nicer wizard to… take his place and…. And treat me.”

“I… oh,” Potter said, sounding less infuriated and more surprised. He sat on the floor with his back against the wall and stretched his legs out toward Draco. “Was… I…. Am I the wizard you’re hoping will… treat you?”

“Yes,” Draco whispered toward Potter’s feet. Then he said it again a little louder. “Yes, Potter. I am hoping that you might be willing to, er, to bugger me. And let me, er, give you blow jobs. I want my magic to work properly again. But I don’t want it enough to… submit to… that….”

“I see.” Potter said uncertainly. “That is… I think I understand. I just… he was so, so…. I don’t want to do that to you. I don’t want to, to violate you!” Potter lay down on the matted, old carpet and Draco watched him grab his hair and stare up at the ceiling. 

“Sex isn’t always, I mean, it really doesn’t have to be… a violation?” Draco tried. Intellectually he was sure this was true. He’d been quite certain of it when he’d thought of Potter as a solution, when he’d planned to ask Weasley to help him see him, and when he’d thought impulsively of the memory as a way to both tell and titillate him without having to speak such embarrassing words. But watching himself get… abused by the Healer had thrown him off balance, and he was not currently speaking with much conviction. 

And it was damaging his case, so he had to fix this. He slid onto the floor too, and scooted close.

“Here’s the thing, Potter. I trust you. Also, I think you can help me. Not to mention, I saw your face, and you think I’m pretty fit.” He risked a glance at Potter’s face, and saw that he was blushing and looking away from Draco. “I… might just fancy you a little,” Draco admitted, and then he bit his lip. Draco paused, but Potter didn’t speak. “Now, I know you have a girlfriend, but–” 

Potter finally interrupted him. “No, no I don’t,” he said to the leg of a chair, not looking at Draco’s face. “I’m, ‘between girlfriends,’ as Ron keeps saying.” Harry reached over and put his hand around the leg of the chair.

Draco could look his fill easily this way, and he was pleased to do it. He had been right to approach Potter first, he decided. Not only was he the one most likely to be able to “treat” Draco’s blockage. Not only was he the one most wrought up in Draco’s life and the one most likely to feel even a tiny bit obligated. Not only was he (surprisingly) single right now. Not only was he the most fanciable young wizard Draco could think of. Not only all of that. In addition to all of that (and it was a lot, in Draco’s opinion), he seemed to want – perhaps a lot – to fuck Draco. 

“After what we just saw, wanting to ‘help you’ with this seems, just, hideously self serving.” Potter was still turned away from Draco and seemingly addressing the chair leg. “I understand what you will be getting out of it, if that Healer was even telling the truth, but…”

“The Healer was telling the truth, Potter,” Draco said quietly. He tentatively put a hand on Potter’s upper arm, and when Potter didn’t pull away, he let his fingers relax and curl around Potter’s sleeve. “When that… thing, when it released the Pure Magic… it felt so amazing. It was the best thing I’ve ever felt. And then, you know, I cast that spell. I hadn’t cast that strongly in… in a really, really long time.”

“You hadn’t?” Potter asked in a small voice. 

“No,” Draco admitted. 

Potter turned his head and looked him in the eye. Draco swallowed once, then moved his hand up until he could stroke the hair away from his forehead. Potter allowed it, and Draco smiled.

“I’m the one being self serving here,” Draco told him. “Slytherin, and all that. If you say yes, I get to defy that bastard, fix my magic, and have massive amounts of tremendous sex with a guy I fancy. You just get the sex. So, you know, I think I win.”

Potter barked out a laugh, and then finally rolled onto his side and grabbed Draco’s hand. Draco felt chastised at first, but then, Potter just… held on.

“When you put it that way,” he said, then didn’t finish the sentence. He looked at their clasped hands and squeezed Draco’s hand once and didn’t let go. “I think... I could fancy you, too,” he said quietly. “Now that I’ve seen you naked, I, er, I can admit that you looked so…. And that _thing_ was…. It looked very….” Potter let go of Draco’s hand. “It’s hard to say this stuff,” he admitted.

“Did you think you only fancied girls?” Draco wondered. “Is that why?” He wished they were still holding hands, so he put one hand on Potter’s shoulder. Potter seemed to relax slightly under Draco’s touch.

“No,” Potter said into the carpeting. “Not for… not for quite some time, really.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Draco felt compelled to ask, but he felt his cheeks burn with jealousy at the thought of Potter with another boy. Still, better to know now, right?

“No, no one. No one but Ginny, really. And, well, Cho, a little. For a few days? If that counted.”

“We don’t have to think of this as a boyfriend thing,” Draco tried. “Just, er, friends? Mates doing each other a favour?”

“Is that what you want?” Potter said. He uncurled a little and reached for Draco’s hand again. 

“Honestly, I just want you to say yes, you’ll come get tested, and then you’ll help me if you can,” Draco told the floor. “I’d love to be your boyfriend, _or_ your fuck buddy, or your, um, _whatever_ you want to call it. As long as you can help me with my magic and I get to come while you do it.” He cracked the cheekiest grin he had as he caught Potter’s eye. 

Startled, Potter barked out a short laugh, and then he pulled. “C’mere,” he said, and he pulled at Draco’s hand until they were laying on the floor, face to face. 

“I just want to…” Potter didn’t finish his sentence, but he did reach over and touch Draco’s face with his free hand. 

“Oh,” Draco said quietly. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch of Potter’s fingertips. 

Potter reacted more intensely than Draco had expected, but he didn’t mind in the least that Potter rolled them over until he’d climbed on top of Draco. He didn’t mind at _all_ that he could feel Potter’s cock on top of his own. And he minded least of all when Potter kissed his neck. 

Draco spread his legs open, intensifying the pressure of Potter’s hardening cock. Draco lifted his hips and kissed high on Potter’s cheek, too, and it wasn’t long at all after they started to grind into one another until they came in their pants.

Feeling messy but sated, Draco opened his eyes again and smiled lazily up at Potter, who smiled back, now looking slightly less shy. “Nice?” Draco asked him, and Potter nodded once, grinning now. 

“Very,” Potter said, and he rested his face in Draco’s neck. Unsure, but hopeful, Draco took this as an excuse to put a hand into Potter’s hair. It was thick and snarled, but soft. So very soft. Draco curled one leg around Potter’s to hold him down. He didn’t particularly want this embrace to end.


	7. Chapter 7

It didn’t take long to get another appointment with the Healer from hell, and Draco found himself looking forward to seeing the arsehole’s reaction when he saw who Draco had pulled to be his new “Healer.”

Sadly, the man was even more capable of keeping his face blank during the second visit. Nonetheless, Draco was reasonably sure that Potter’s presence in the exam room had been a shock.

They had both been nervous about how invasive the testing might be for Potter, but the Healer was able to get a reading of his Pure Magic output without Potter having to so much as unzip his trousers, let alone orgasm in the exam room.

The exact quote was, “your output should be adequate to Mr Malfoy’s need.”

They left after ten minutes with a large stack of black, silken, self-replicating cloths, a stasis box to store them in, and strict written instructions on how – exactly – they were to fuck.


	8. Chapter 8

## Proper sex magic to treat blocked pure and neutral magical release, a.k.a. Tarred Blockage 

A magic user suffering blocked pure and neutral magical release requires sexual treatment. While colloquially referred to as “sex magic,” these treatments are more properly referred to as sexual treatment, as no potions, rituals or special locations are required for these treatments to remove the tarred blockage and allow the magic user’s own personal Pure Magic its own proper outlet. The moon’s phase is also of no significance. Your sexual treatments can take place on any day.

Three things are required for the proper sexual treatments to alleviate blocked pure and neutral magical release: a Healer, special self-replicating cloths, and cloth storage.

The magic user suffering from blocked pure and neutral magical release, will require a male sexual partner who ejaculates adequate amounts of Pure Magic along with his semen. Most male Healers fit this profile, as the practice of Healing tends to increase both the amount of Pure Magic in a magic user’s core, and the free and continuous release of said Pure Magic during actions both routine and uncommon. When the patient’s Healer is either female or not a preferred option, the patient can seek a sexual practitioner from among the Healers on staff, or can have a different man tested for adequate amounts of Pure Magic in his ejaculate. Most patients with a husband will of course wish his ejaculate tested. Rest assured, this test can be performed most discreetly, unlike the tests required to assure a proper diagnosis of blocked pure and neutral magical release.

Female magic users who suffer from blocked pure and neutral magical release will require hormonal methods of birth control during each treatment session, as both barrier and magical methods will interfere with the magical transfers. Anal intercourse is also an option for preventing pregnancy. Discuss these options with your Healer.

(It is important to note your Healer experiences no prurient or sexual enjoyment from your nudity, or from ejaculating inside you, even considering the lack of a condom spell. Healers quickly become accustomed to seeing partially nude patients, and can easily discern the difference between a patient and a true sexual partner. While you recline on the exam table and receive your treatment, you can rest in the knowledge that your Healer is merely a Healer, grateful for the chance to treat yet another patient’s disorder.)

Secondly, the patient needs orgasm spell cloths. These are available at Hailer’s Healers for your convenience, but a quantity should be taken with you for orgasms you choose to have alone at home. As they are self-replicating, it is not necessary to take more than a dozen, even if you choose to be treated by someone other than a Healer. A male patient should apply one cloth to his penis shortly before his Healer enters the room to initiate a treatment session. A female patient should apply one cloth to each breast and a third to her clitoral area.

Once you have applied the cloths, you should lie face down on the examination table and ring the bell. The cloths will immediately begin caressing and stroking your sex organs in order to bring you to orgasm quickly. Your Healer will enter the room discreetly, adjust the examination table, stand between your legs, spread open the cheeks of your bottom to expose your opening, and then insert his bare, erect penis into your vagina or anus, as previously agreed. While the Healer moves his penis in and out of your vagina or anus, rest assured that the spell cloths will bring you to a quick and intense orgasm, heedless of any embarrassment you may experience during such an unusual healing session.

When you orgasm, your body will release a measurable amount of the Tainted Magic that is interfering with your own magical capabilities. The orgasm spell cloths will capture 100% of this released Tainted Magic, affording your body the ability and opportunity to incorporate fully the Pure Magic that your Healer will then release. While orgasms that are not immediately followed by a Pure Magic ejaculation will release enough Tainted Magic to be worth using an orgasm spell cloth each time, far and away the most effective way to treat blocked pure and neutral magical release is with an appropriate sex partner. Orgasms at home simply make the Pure Magic in your Healer’s ejaculate more effective.

It is very important that the patient always face away from the Healer during this sexual treatment, as the Magic that is expelled during orgasm has momentum, and travels away from the body. If any Tainted Magic should touch your Healer, it will slow his ability to treat your blocked pure and neutral magical release. The only exception to this requirement is fellatio, discussed below.

Third, we will issue you a stasis box, in which you should store your orgasm spell cloths as soon as you can after intercourse. The sooner you can place the used cloths into the stasis box, the better, as this will assure that none of the Tainted Magic they have soaked up will escape into your skin.

Unlike your Healer, a patient should set aside all of his or her inhibitions and enjoy the Healer’s physical attentions to the fullest possible extent. Sounds of pleasure, rhythmic movements, and encouraging words are all not only expected, but strenuously recommended. Put yourself into the mindset toward orgasm. The faster you come to orgasm while your Healer’s erection is inside your vagina or anus, the sooner your Healer will be able to complete that day’s sexual treatment.

If your Healer determines that your Tarred Blockage would benefit from applications of Pure Magic to not only the middle but the top of your person, he may advise fellatio as a method of applying Pure Magic directly to your head and neck area. If your blockage is determined to affect your head and neck particularly, then fellatio will almost certainly be prescribed.

Clearly, when you take your Healer’s erection into your mouth, you cannot be facing away from him, and so, in these instances, you will need to both keep all of your clothing on, and keep your stasis box as close as possible to facilitate the storage or your orgasm spell cloths as soon after your own orgasm as possible.

However, no other restrictions need be placed on the act of fellatio. (Except of course that, as with anal and vaginal intercourse, your orgasm must occur first.) You may, therefore, wish to accept the head of your Healer’s penis into your throat, touch your Healer’s testicles, stroke your Healer’s gluteal musculature, and/or wrap your own hand around the shaft of your Healer’s penis. These choices are up to you.

It may seem hard to believe, but do rest assured, even as your Healer thrusts his penis over your pursed lips, accepts the caress of your hands on his penis, testicles and gluteus maximus, and then ejaculates within your mouth or throat: he is merely a humble practitioner of Healing Magic, and receives no prurient nor sexual enjoyment from receiving fellatio from a patient. Especially since you are always completely clothed while this occurs.

And that’s all it takes! Be prepared to receive this simple, swift and pain free treatment a minimum of three times a week for approximately one year. The more frequent your appointments, of course, the sooner you can be done with this course of treatment. Scheduling six treatments a week instead of three will speed your treatment up considerably.

Note! It is not uncommon for a blockage to reoccur in one’s magic in the first two or three years after you are cured, so your Healer will schedule six month follow-up checks. It is likely (though not guaranteed) that you will require a treatment approximately once a year to keep a recurrence at bay, so be aware that your Healer may recommend that a follow-up visit become a treatment session. Such treatments are best administered immediately, so as to prevent a health problem that would otherwise arise from a simple scheduling challenge.

Do feel encouraged to ask any questions you have. As always, Hailer’s Healers holds to the very highest standards for quality patient care.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco wasn’t thinking clearly, so he didn’t understand Potter’s hesitation when he stopped to wait at the end of the short queue of people heading out via the Floo. “You don’t want to Floo?” he asked, surprised. The room had quieted when Harry Potter appeared. Draco supposed Potter wouldn’t want to wait on line with common people. 

“I…” Potter leaned over and whispered into Draco’s ear. “I don’t want to share my Floo address with strangers,” he said. Draco’s ear tingled at the slight touch of Potter’s warm breath.

Potter grabbed his hand, and though people stared, soon they had walked outside to the deserted, ugly street. “I’d much rather Apparate,” he said. “You understand.”

“I can’t Apparate with my magic like this,” Draco said, blushing with anger and shame. “Are you trying to humiliate me?”

“I, no!” Potter said. Now he was the one who looked ashamed. “I’ll side-along you!” Still holding Draco’s hand, Potter twist-turned right into Draco’s chest. The last thing Draco saw before they vanished into thin air was Harry Potter’s startled green eyes.

They arrived in Potter’s parlour and stepped awkwardly away from one another. 

“We should put these… somewhere,” Draco said uncomfortably, pulling the cloths and shrunken stasis box from his robe pocket.

“Er, yes,” Potter said, and he blushed, holding out his hands. Draco handed all the items over. “I’ll just… put these away now,” Potter said, and he turned and walked from the room. Draco followed him.

“You don’t have to come along. I mean, I’ll just put these in my bedroom and get us some tea,” Potter said, blushing and looking at the floor.

“I think I should, er, see your bedroom,” Draco said, wondering why this all had to feel so awkward. 

“Oh!” Potter said, but then he just turned and headed for the stairs. Draco followed Potter up the stairway, admiring the way Potter’s Muggle denims showcased his muscular arse. They went up two flights of stairs in near silence, and then Potter headed for a door at the end of the hallway. He put his hand on the old-fashioned door handle and stopped, turned to Draco, and blushed again. “You can come in. I mean, if you’d like. Of course.”

Draco nodded, hoping they could just get this over with. He hadn’t expected offering a fit guy a blowjob would be such a fraught experience.

Potter put the cloths and box down on his bed, and Draco moved to stand right behind him. When Potter stood up again, they were back to chest. Draco put his hands on Potter’s shoulders. 

“What—” Potter said, and Draco kissed his neck. 

“Shh…” Draco sighed. “I’ve never sucked cock before,” Draco whispered into Potter’s warm neck, “but I suspect you’ll still be able to come. Just wait until I do, ok?”

Potter nodded his head with a jerk, and Draco turned him around and pushed him gently. Potter sat on the bed, and Draco picked up one of the black cloths from the stack. He got down onto his knees, simultaneously reaching into his robes to put the black cloth on his dick. Potter’s Muggle style clothing was unfamiliar, but with a little help, he managed to expose Potter’s cock. He was soft. For that matter, so was Draco. But he whispered “enter,” the word that was meant to activate the spell on the silk, and then leaned over to lick the head of Potter’s penis.

The black cloth didn’t seem to be doing much, but it was moving around a bit, and really, Draco was mostly curious about Potter’s cock and balls. How big were they? What colour? Most important of all, would Draco _like_ sucking Potter off? He took the head of Potter’s cock into his mouth and tried to suck. “Hmm,” he murmured. Potter gripped the duvet cover into his fists.

“Are you— is this— all right?” Draco asked, looking up at Potter. The last thing he wanted to do was push anyone past his limits, especially so soon after that Healer had just done that to him. But Potter nodded once, then sighed.

“It feels… really good,” he said, as though it hurt to admit such a thing.

“Well, that’s good then, right?” Draco said, looking up. But Potter just nodded once and screwed his eyes shut tight, so Draco looked back down at Potter’s dick and was pleased to see that it had grown quite a bit longer and harder. He thought he could take the shaft into his hand and the head in his mouth now, actually, so he tried that. Potter spread his legs much further apart. “Mmmmmm,” Draco agreed, and began to move his mouth over the head of Potter’s cock in a rhythm that he hoped would get him off.

Remembering that he was supposed to come first, he focused on the black cloth caressing his cock. It felt quite nice; not as intense as when he’d been in the Healer’s office, but that was probably all right. He thought he could come from it. And besides, he was very much enjoying having Harry Potter’s erection in his mouth. He pulled his knees a little further apart to feel steadier and have a better angle for sucking, and — experimentally — thought to put Potter’s right hand on the back on his head. He found he liked having Potter’s fingers stroke through his hair, and he really liked having Potter’s complete and undivided attention. He probably liked that part most of all. He continued sucking hard on Potter’s cock with the same rhythm, as Potter clearly liked it and he had no other ideas of what to try.

Suddenly, Potter’s hand clenched into Draco’s hair, and he began thrusting shallowly. Draco thought that might be all right, so he tried to turn his mouth into even more of a tight, wet tube. But before he felt confident he’d done so, Potter grunted, shook, and started to come.

He had done it! He’d gotten Potter off! Pretty quickly, even. Potter was _coming_ and Draco was the reason! And holy fucking hell, now Potter’s Pure Magic was flooding Draco’s head and neck and it felt amazing. It was like being blasted with… rainbows or magic glitter, something equally improbable and blissful. 

And then it faded like a breeze, and Draco realized he hadn’t come yet. 

“Too soon,” he said into Potter’s thigh, and Potter looked down at him, glassy eyed and horrified.

“Too soon?” 

“I haven’t come yet,” Draco said. 

“Oh fuck,” Potter said. “I am so fucking sorry.”

Suddenly overwhelmed and humiliated, Draco ripped the cloth from his cock, not caring how stupid it looked to go rummaging around under his heavy robes and yank out a square of black silk as though it were a disgusting bug.

“I have to go,” he cried, and he turned away and ran for the stairs and the Floo.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Five minutes later, Draco had found his mother. He sat at her feet and sobbed. She asked no questions, merely stroked his hair and waited.

Much later, a rental post owl came for Draco. It simply said:

> I’m really sorry. Let’s try again tomorrow.  
>  Dinner, 7pm, bring wine if you want.  
>  HP


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter tonight!

Part of him never wanted to ever have to see Potter’s face again, but the rest of him wanted his magic back. So the next evening Draco put on a nice outfit, pulled a decent bottle of red from the wine cellars, and meandered toward his Floo. To his dismay, his mother was waiting there for him, reading a book.

“Son,” she said gently, and all Draco wanted to do was collapse at her feet again and let her stroke his hair. It was all just so... _unfair_.

“Mother,” he said instead, in a voice that attempted to end the conversation and send her attention back to her reading. When that didn’t work, he continued toward the Floo. He took some powder and steeled himself to throw it into the fireplace.

“Is this wise?” she asked when she heard where he was going.

“I believe it is my best option,” he said grimly, then he stepped through the Floo into Potter’s parlour once again.

Potter was waiting for him.“I am incredibly sorry about yesterday,” he began.“Er.” Then he hesitated, as though he had forgotten the script, but Draco had heard enough. He made a little wave, to try to say it was time to move on. Thankfully, Potter seemed to understand. “Do you want to eat now, or… after?”

“Let’s get the blowjob out of the way,” Draco said, looking at the floor. “I’ll be eating my fingernails instead of dinner, otherwise.”

Potter barked out one laugh and nodded, then held out his hand. Draco stared at it, and finally reached to shake it. But Potter held on and led him toward the staircase.

“Are you going to want to hold my hand every day, then?” Draco said, trying to sound cool and detached. 

“Yes, I think so,” Potter said seriously, as though it had been an honest question with no sarcasm intended. Draco managed to stare at Potter’s arse the whole way up two flights of stairs without feeling like he should stop.

They entered Potter’s room, and Draco saw right away that Potter had tidied. Which amused him not only because he hadn’t consciously noticed last time that the room was messy, but also because it suggested that Potter was thinking of this less as a favour and more like a date. Which assuaged at least a touch of the humiliation, so that was positive.

“I, er… I shouldn’t come so fast this time.” Potter said in a small voice. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Draco to sit next to him. 

Draco sat down, but Potter refused to let go of his hand, so they had to sit right next to each other. 

Finally Draco responded. “No?” Draco couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t sound awfully mean, so he left it at that.

“Yeah, I… came already today. Er. Three times.”

“Really?” That was a surprise. Draco hadn’t come since bedtime the night before. Masturbating always helped him sleep. Mostly because he usually couldn’t go to sleep until he came. He had fantasized and re-fantasized about sucking Harry Potter’s cock, and once he’d managed to reimagine the scenario to a far better conclusion, he had come, cleaned up, and fallen quickly into a deep sleep. But he hadn’t bothered to try again since. He didn’t have any cloths, for one thing; he wanted to come quickly when he got back to Harry’s, for another. Most of all, though, when he thought about their encounter in the light of day, he got a lot less hard and a lot more embarrassed about being an idiot.

“I couldn’t stop remembering you, er, doing that. And… yeah. So I kept getting hard. And I figured it couldn’t hurt to, er, to prepare?”

“Thinking about me sucking your cock gets you hard?” Draco said, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“Merlin, yes,” Potter said in a fervent voice. He squeezed Draco’s hand. “Not even that, er, explicit. All I have to do is remember you getting down on your knees and reaching….” He pressed his free hand against his crotch and Draco felt his own cock react.

“Let’s lie down,” Potter said firmly. 

“But the hospital paper says—”

“We aren’t going to start that part yet.” Potter stood up and pulled his shirt off. Then he threw it on the floor and walked to the side of the bed. “Lie down with me? I want to, just… snog a little.”

“Er.” Draco felt like his brains had been replaced with cotton wool. He stood and removed his cloak, leaving himself almost fully dressed, in trousers and a long-sleeved royal blue silk tunic that his mother and Pansy had both said brought out the nearly non-existent blue in his eyes. Potter lay down on the left side of the bed, so Draco moved to the right and sat down. He took off his shoes and watched Potter toe his own shoes off in response. Then Draco got on the bed, facing Potter. They were both embarrassed, but Potter nonetheless stroked his fingertips through Draco’s hair, and Draco felt his eyes flutter shut at the caress.

“You like that?” said Potter in a small voice. Draco forced his eyes open to protest the tease. But his words didn’t leave his mouth. He needed nothing more than a glance at Potter’s face to know that he wasn’t teasing at all. He was asking. So he nodded and Potter smiled, then pulled Draco closer. Then Potter moved in to kiss him.

Kissing Potter was nothing like he could have imagined when he was fifteen, and had his first wet dream about the other boy. After that first one, such dreams had become quite common, and had revolved around themes of sexual violence and domination. At fifteen and sixteen, it had been a nearly-every-night occurrence to wake, wet and messy, from a dream of Potter, naked, chained, perhaps on his knees, usually begging for the right to suck Draco’s dick just one more time. Then Potter had nearly murdered Draco in that bathroom in their sixth year, and the dreams had abruptly ceased.

They had not ceased forever, as it turned out. The Dark Lord had moved into his ancestral home, the Carrows had taken over his school, and some time that year, Draco had begun to dream a very different scenario. Potter, usually coming through the window on a broom, and always offering to save Draco from the horror that had become his life, for the price of thoroughly buggering him first, and presumably often enough after, as well. Once they got out of there. 

Odd. Those dreams were almost prophetic, now that he thought about it.

But Potter’s lips on his, Potter’s hand in his hair, Potter’s leg coming over his own… there was nothing of violence about it. Nor of domination. His lips were soft, and his touch felt a little tentative. For his part, Draco knew his own touch was positively unambitious. For all that he wanted to rip Potter’s clothes off and swallow him whole, he knew Potter was only here because of a magical malady. Potter would never have just… shown up at the Manor and said “Hey, you’re fit. Bend over?”

Despite their nervousness, however, they were still kissing. And Potter had opened his own mouth, so, feeling equally like he should _and_ like he should not, Draco opened his own. And Potter _licked_ him. It was weird. Draco figured if Potter wanted that, though, he should try it too, so he tried to lick Potter back. And this meant their tongues were suddenly tangled together. The last time they had been getting each other off in this position they hadn’t tried anything like this. Now that they were snogging for real, Draco couldn’t understand why they had ever waited. 

He pulled at Potter’s bare shoulders and soon they were crotch to crotch again, Draco underneath and both of them grinding their hard, clothed dicks into one another. Potter’s bare back was all Draco wanted to feel under his fingertips and he stroked and scratched and grabbed while he explored Potter’s open mouth and breath and tongue. Draco was fully hard inside his clothes. Pleasure was spiraling and tingling in his balls and cock. It wouldn’t be long before the feeling hit his spine and curled into his lower belly. If they kept this up.... 

“I’m going to come,” he panted into Potter’s mouth.

“Yes,” Potter moaned. He sounded helpless. “Please. I want to watch.”

“We have to, with the cloth, and…”

“Right,” Potter said, and he sounded perfectly broken about it. This gave Draco the courage to take control, and he got out from underneath Potter and grabbed one cloth off the stack. Potter began to yank off his jeans, getting one leg tangled in his sock, and Draco unlaced his trousers and wrapped his erection in a black spell cloth. “Enter,” he said, feeling dumb, and the thing went to town. “Oh, Merlin,” he moaned, and he shoved Potter down, coaxing his arse toward the edge of the bed. Potter’s pants were still wrapped around one ankle and Draco didn’t care. He had to take that cock into his mouth and he had to do it thirty seconds ago. He fell to his knees between Potter’s legs and licked his cockhead. Potter groaned once, then seemed to silence himself. 

“I’m in control,” he managed to say, through slightly gritted teeth. “I promise not to come first. Just, let me know?”

Draco nodded, then put one hand on Potter’s bare arse. He wrapped the other around the base of Potter’s erection and took the first inch and a half or so into his mouth. A bit of pre-come hit his tongue and he explored that. It was bitter, but not too bad. There were bitter foods Draco liked in moderation. He decided he should seek out more, and learn to like the taste of Potter’s pre-come, so he sucked, pulling some out. Then he tried to tongue a bit more out of the slit with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” Potter moaned helplessly, and he grabbed at his messy black hair with both of his hands. 

“Good?” Draco said, feeling a little smug.

“It’s a good thing I came so many times today,” Potter said, apparently more able to talk coherently when Draco was looking at his face instead of blowing him. “Is that thing getting you off? Because you are amazing with your mouth.”

“Hm,” Draco said, realizing that the cloth wasn’t doing much for him. “It isn’t… impressive,” he said, and frowned. Pushing away his self-consciousness, he called “Enter!” again, this time loud enough for a Healer on the other side of an exam room door to hear and come in. The little cloth reacted to his louder voice and suddenly tripled its efforts to get him off.

“Oh,” Draco whispered, and he put his forehead on the bed between Potter’s thighs.

“Better?” Potter asked. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, and took Potter’s dick back into his mouth. Somehow, Potter’s pre-come was what he needed now, and he sought for it at the slit. He left his hand on Potter’s shaft, but otherwise he ignored all but the very head, choosing instead to concentrate on the feeling of the silken cloth relentlessly masturbating him. The feelings of bliss were building, stacking up higher and higher, all through his cock, into his balls, down his perineum.

“It feels great now,” he said, then sucked a kiss from the head of Potter’s erection. “I’m going to come soon. And once I do,” he dug his tongue into Potter’s slit for more pre-come, which had become something almost sweet to him now, “you should fuck my mouth.” Just saying it ramped up the sensations.

Potter whined at him and put one hand in Draco’s hair, stroking through the strands and scratching gently at his scalp. “Okay,” Potter whispered.

“I’m coming now!” whined Draco, the last word turning into a high-pitched noise of pleasure. It was the most intense orgasm he had ever had. He wouldn’t be surprised if he fainted. That cloth was truly magical, he could finally believe it. It was not just soaking in the Tainted Magic that was coming out of him, it was pulling, yanking, forcing bad magic out from his body and trapping it forever. Draco laid his head on the bed and groaned as his orgasm went on and on. 

Somehow it ended, and Draco took a deep breath before lifting his head. He pulled at Potter’s hips and wrapped his hand around Potter’s shaft again. “Like I said,” he commanded, and took Potter’s cock into his mouth again. 

Obedient though blushing, Potter began to move his cock over Draco’s lips. First a little, then – receiving encouragement – a lot. 

“Mmmm,” Draco encouraged him further, and Potter’s pre-come seemed to flow faster.

“Balls,” Potter said in a harsh whisper, so Draco took his hand off Potter’s arse and reached under to caress Potter’s balls. They had drawn up very tight, so Draco tried to brace himself for a flood of come, and it didn’t take long for it to arrive. 

Potter fucked Draco’s mouth and came, and when it began, the Pure Magic it brought into Draco’s head and neck felt like a tsunami of pure physical satiation. He felt it flood into him hard, and – desperate for more – he found himself trying to deep throat Potter’s cock. He actually managed it for a few seconds, too, and while the feeling of being choked, of having a tube of flesh battering that soft, vulnerable place, of being unable to breathe, was a little unpleasant; he felt it didn’t much matter. Because he was in charge, this was his choice, Potter fucking _loved_ it, and the Pure Magic getting inserted right into his throat was the best thing on earth.

Draco found himself chasing the last of Potter’s orgasm. As Potter seemed to try to pull away so he could lie down, and made little sounds of exhaustion, Draco refused to let his dick out of his mouth. He sucked the head until Potter took his chin in his hand and said only “please?”

Draco let go, knowing he was frowning, but Potter pulled at him and soon they were on top of the bed again and Potter was not only kissing him, he was trying to take off Draco’s trousers. 

“I want you completely naked and in bed with me,” he admitted into Draco’s neck, so – though he still felt somewhat woozy – Draco stood up and undressed completely. Potter got his last sock off as well, and then pulled down the duvet and climbed into his bed.

Draco joined him soon after, having slid the used cloth into the hole at the top of the stasis box.

It was bizarre but wonderful to relax in the afterglow with Harry Potter. The bloke was all hands and mouth, as it turned out. He couldn’t stop caressing Draco, touching his hair, his back, his chest, and his arse. He pulled at Draco’s hands and asked him without words to touch him all over in return. Slowly they explored the world of kissing.

“What about dinner?” Draco finally asked. He knew he was changing the subject, but this intensity was getting to be too much. Plus, he was hungry.

“Can I fuck you first?” Potter asked Draco’s neck, turning red as he asked. 

Draco remembered the orgasm the little cloth had given him twenty or so minutes before, and nodded before he could change his mind.

“I bought three kinds of lube,” Potter admitted.

“Ok,” Draco said, and he lay on his back and pulled up one leg. 

“I’ve been fantasizing about stretching you open since that memory,” Potter admitted, and he grabbed one of his containers of lube and opened it. He pushed off the covers and looked greedily at Draco’s body, then he got some of his fingers oily and tried to slide a finger into Draco’s arsehole. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but Draco remembered the extra-sensitive spot inside his arse and under his dick, and he tried to help Potter find it.

“This lube seems nice,” he said, for something to say as Potter fiddled around inside him. “I think a little higher?” Potter tried to obey, and it still felt nice, but it also felt weird. “Up a little more…”

As soon as Potter touched his prostate, Draco’s muscles seized up and he nearly arched off the bed. “There!” He panted for a moment, then wriggled on Potter’s finger. “I… I could come from that all by itself, if you do it right,” he claimed, and grabbed the top cloth off the stack and slapped it on his dick. “Enter!” he yelled, and Potter grinned. 

“I can hardly wait,” he said slyly, and Draco wanted to whack him with a pillow. “No puns,” he growled. “Just fingers.”

“When can it be my cock?” Potter asked. 

“Try another finger first,” Draco said. “And… kiss me?”

Potter was short, so it wasn’t easy for him to finger fuck Draco’s arse, caress Draco’s prostate rigorously, and concentrate on kissing at the same time. But that was okay, because even though Potter wasn’t doing any of those things with his full attention, the cloth was doing its job quite well and it wasn’t long before – despite coming less than half an hour ago – Draco felt he was stimulated and wound up enough to come in just a few more moments.

“I need to come facing away from you,” he said quietly. “But I could probably do that while you… were inside me.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Potter said. “I don’t think I should start that until after you come. I am so fucking hard right now, I think I might come as soon as I start… that.” Potter was bright red and his hands had slowed to a stop. He looked eager and embarrassed when he continued. “I want to… I want to watch you come, too.”

“How?” Draco said, curious, and Potter maneuvered them into a spooning position. His cock was hot against Draco’s back, and it was weird to know Potter was watching his cock, and the cloth, and Draco’s _face_ , but Potter yelled “ _EN-ter!_ and the cloth and his cock were suddenly the only things on earth. His orgasm hit almost immediately. 

He came so hard that he almost missed Potter rolling him onto his stomach, spreading his legs, and shoving his cock into Draco’s arse. He started to pay attention when Potter first breached him. It hurt! But then Potter continued to move, and then, better still, the head of Potter’s cock rubbed firmly over Draco’s massively stimulated and probably swollen prostate gland, and Draco wailed into the sheets and tried to make it easier for Potter to fuck him.

“So, so fucking amazing!” Potter yelled, and then he began to come, too.

Even though Potter had come in his mouth already that evening, the pleasurable feeling created by the influx of his Pure Magic was not diminished. Draco felt Potter’s goodness pierce, fill and invade him. He thought he could feel his own magical core latch onto Potter’s Pure Magic and hold on. It was like a hot, pricklish, honeyed flood halfway up his chest and nearly to his knees. He went rigid with it, unintentionally clamping the muscles of his arse down hard on Potter’s cock.

Potter yowled and fucked him harder, shooting even more Pure Magic into Draco’s body along with his come, and Draco thought he could sleep for a week.

Potter collapsed onto Draco’s back. “Have to…” Draco said, exhausted, and he wriggled out from underneath just enough to shove the second cloth into the stasis box. Then they both fell asleep on top of the blankets, Potter wrapped around Draco’s back like ivy.


	11. Chapter 11

When Draco awoke, he had no idea what time it was, but he was a bit cold and ravenously hungry. Despite the thin curtains, the room was dark, so he could assume that the sun had set. He thought that meant it was well after nine, but more than that he could not guess. He couldn’t see a clock and didn’t want to get up and search for one. Potter was no longer entwined with Draco’s every limb, but he still thought a good bit of movement would wake Potter up, and he wasn’t quite ready for that. He thought to use his wand instead, but while he did generally still have enough control over his magic to cast a time check, he did not know quite where his wand had landed when he and Potter had frantically undressed.

At the memory of two bouts of fabulous sex, however, Draco found himself smiling widely. He’d been imagining both losing his virginity, and getting underneath Potter, for a few years now. He had not been the least bit disappointed with either development, and getting them both at the same time had been an added bonus he’d barely been able to hope for – even when he’d received his diagnosis and thought to ask Potter to treat him in lieu of the Healer from hell. 

Potter was fit. Far more fit than Draco had guessed when they were still at school together. Granted, it was hard to guess at someone’s shape when they were in loose school robes, but Potter, like most, wore far more fitted attire at weekends, and Draco had known Potter was thin. Draco had decided, though, that Potter was surely one of those boys upon whom thinness was an ugly curse. A boy with spindle arms and a sunken chest. A boy with a soft stomach and a bony arse.

Potter was none of those things. Under his shirt Draco had been thrilled to find muscles. Chest hair. Pectoral swells and abdominal definition. Biceps and triceps and a black “happy trail” that pointed directly at Potter’s erection. 

And what an erection. Draco found himself wondering if Potter would wake ravenous too, and in what way Draco should awaken him. Because Draco only had photographic and furtive visual dormitory experiences until quite recently, but still… he was sure that Potter’s cock was damn near perfect. 

He’d been a little busy sucking it and then getting rammed with it earlier, but in retrospect he thought it was probably around six or seven inches long, and the thickness seemed just right. Thin enough that Draco could suck it without choking, thick enough that it felt big in his arse. Like Draco, Potter was uncircumcised, but Potter’s cock had a rosy head and a slight upward curve. Draco’s cock was almost as pale as the rest of him, and as straight as a wand.

Potter’s pubic hair was excitingly masculine: black and thick, but nonetheless trimmed fairly short. None of it had gotten into Draco’s teeth, which he appreciated. Blaise had often liked to complain about that regarding witches he had bedded, and it had sounded quite unappealing.

Draco absentmindedly reached for his cock, which was getting hard as he remembered all the best parts of their evening.

“Going somewhere without me?” he heard, and then Potter was cuddled up to Draco’s side, and his hand was cupping and rolling Draco’s balls.

“Nowhere in particular,” Draco replied huskily. 

“I’m more than ready for dinner,” Potter said as he lavished attention on Draco’s balls, “but I’m even hungrier for you. Up for one more round of excellent fucking before we go downstairs and have something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Draco said, lifting the leg that wasn’t pressed up against Potter. He wanted Potter’s fingers inside him again. “Got any lube nearby?” 

Potter sighed and kissed Draco’s shoulder before he pulled away. “Don’t wanna search for the lube,” he whined, leaning off the edge of the bed to search for the tube on the floor. “You’re cozy.” 

But when he returned to Draco’s side, he didn’t get close enough to kiss. Instead, he slid two wet fingers into Draco’s arse, and then suckled the head of Draco’s cock into his mouth.

Draco went quickly from “sort of hard” to “battering ram” in Potter’s mouth, and he thrashed on the pillow, over-sensitized and shocked. “You… you shouldn’t…” 

“Don’t worry,” Potter said, and he peppered Draco’s belly with kisses. “I won’t keep going ‘til you come in my mouth. But I just want to, so much, okay?”

“Okay…” Draco said, his voice trailing into a coo as Potter licked and sucked the head of his cock, finger-fucked and thrust into his hole.

“Tell me when you want to switch to me fucking you, okay?”

“Never,” Draco admitted. “Always.”

“I see,” Potter giggled. He nuzzled Draco’s thigh, watching his own fingers. “I’ll take that as a compliment, and not a sign that I’m starving you into incoherence. But maybe we should wrap this up. Will you stay the night? I don’t want you to leave after dinner.”

“Black… mail…” Draco teased. He wanted to stay very much. He’d never thought Potter would ask, though. Maybe Potter just wanted to wake up with somewhere nicer to put his hard-on than the curve of his hand? Draco spread his legs a little further apart in his distraction. Potter’s fingers felt as good as his cock did, but different. 

“Call it blackmail if you want,” Potter said, pouting. “But I hope you’ll stay. Can I fuck you now?”

Instead of answering, Draco pulled away from Potter, and moved to get on his hands and knees, grabbing a black cloth from the stack next to his side of the bed as he got into position. They might be limited to positions that pointed his cock away from Potter, but he wanted to try every one of those that they could think of. This one he’d seen in porn all the time, so it took no brainpower to think of it.

Potter didn’t argue. He just got behind Draco and palmed Draco’s arse open. “You look so damn good,” he murmured, waiting for Draco to activate the cloth.

“Enter!” Draco yelled, feeling stupid, but the cloth heard the urgency in his tone and began to masturbate him at top speed.

“Can you fuck me, but not come yet?” he asked Potter. “I like when you fuck me.” This, it turned out, was easier to admit when he was looking at Potter’s pillows.

“I’ll try,” Potter said. He teased at Draco’s hole with the head of his cock while the cloth increased Draco’s elevating sensation, bringing him ever closer to orgasm. 

He pressed back against Potter, who thankfully took the hint and pushed the head of his cock through Draco’s ring of muscle. Draco hissed at the sudden discomfort, but it passed almost instantly, and then he was able to just relish the feeling of fullness inside him, complimenting the spreading feelings that the cloth was wringing from his cock.

“Just… just a sec,” he wheezed out, and Potter stilled while Draco reached down so he could caress his own balls. Once he’d rebalanced on one arm he started moving again, and Potter followed suit, gently fucking Draco in a slow rhythm that he found quite pleasant. The cloth had nearly gotten him there, and he paid close attention to the sensations, letting the fullness of Potter’s cock inside him throw him over the edge.

He came moaning and threw the cloth at the stasis box, then collapsed onto his stomach. “Fuck me really hard,” he demanded, and Potter rearranged Draco’s legs a bit, then obeyed.

When Potter’s Pure Magic began to flood Draco’s body he thought he might faint. He was beginning to think that this process was more than cumulative. It seemed a bit like the more often they did this, the more success each orgasm brought him – his orgasm _and_ Potter’s orgasm. Maybe he should stay the night, after all.


	12. Chapter 12

Despite their intense need to eat something, they didn’t even have to discuss a need for a shower first, and they managed to get clean with minimal groping and kissing added. Potter loaned Draco a dressing gown, and they went downstairs to the kitchen with wet hair and bare feet.

The clock showed that it was nearly two in the morning, and Draco spared a thought to wonder if his mother was worried about him. But he couldn’t owl her so late at night, and everyone knew Potter’s owl had died in the war anyway. He hardly wanted to ask if Potter had replaced her. Mother would just have to wait.

“I was kind of hoping the night would go this way,” Potter confessed, “so I made a meal that was best eaten cold and then just put it in the fridge.”

“You could have made something hot and charmed it to stay fresh, you know,” Draco said, watching Potter pull a full plate from a large silver box and pull a thin sheet of clear film off the top. But he nonetheless looked at what Potter had given him and decided to try the pasta salad first. 

Potter poured Draco a large, cold glass of pumpkin juice and then picked up his own plate and glass. “In the winter, I will. Eat on the roof with me?” he asked, and Draco smiled and followed him up the stairs.

They sat together on Potter’s roof, where he had potted flowers, comfortable chairs made to stay outside, and a nice view of the sky, his neighbors' roofs, and a small Muggle park. 

“I can’t see many stars,” Draco said, looking up and squinting a bit as he ate a small spinach and mushroom quiche with his fingers.

“Yeah, that’s what happens in the city,” Potter said. 

“You’re a good cook,” Draco said appreciatively. “What is this stuff?”

“It’s quinoa salad,” Potter said, smiling, “and I’m a good shopper, you mean. I bought all this stuff already made. From the deli section at the Muggle market.”

“Muggles made all of this?” Draco said, putting a deviled egg in his mouth and smiling at the combination of flavours.

“Yeah, that a problem?” Potter looked a little uncomfortable, so Draco decided this was a good moment to show how much he had changed. 

“Does it look like I have a problem with it?” he asked, and picked up a mini quiche in one hand and his last devilled egg in the other. Then he crammed them both in his mouth at the same time and moaned with every drop of gusto and enthusiasm he could find.

It worked. Potter laughed at him and smiled, a great big smile that lit up the whole roof garden. “No,” he said, still laughing and smiling, and then he made a little moue of distaste. “But I’ve never seen you have such bad manners!”

As hungry as they both were, it didn’t take long to finish their meal, but Draco didn’t want to go downstairs yet. “What are your summer plans?” he asked, then winced. Whatever they were, did he want to know? Surely he was mucking them up? Or did he need to know, because they were going to get in the way of his own need to commandeer Potter’s attention multiple times a week? (Or multiple times _a day_ , if tonight was a good indication.) Potter didn’t seem to have noticed the wince, though, and he looked down at his feet. 

“Er, I didn’t have a lot going on. Ron and Hermione are in Australia, because of her parents.”

Draco had no idea what this meant, but he didn’t interrupt to find out.

“I felt I definitely shouldn’t tag along for that. I had thought they might need me at Hogwarts, but then they decided to hire professionals to fix the castle.”

Draco had heartily approved of that plan. Not only had he assumed that he would be forced to help clean and repair the castle if it were left to volunteers, but he didn’t think that a heavily warded, partially underwater, multi-story, thousand year old magical school, that had taken serious damage in a war, was a good candidate for untrained, volunteer labour. 

“So I had just decided to spend the summer working on fixing up this place, and then you asked if you could, er, have some of my time.”

Draco had no idea what to say to that. He had definitely noticed dingy wallpaper, shabby furniture, and dim lighting as he had walked around the place, but he hardly thought he could politely agree with Potter that his home was a dump.

“Maybe…” Potter seemed hopeful, but he didn’t finish his sentence. He stared at Draco for a moment, then looked away. 

Draco waited for another heartbeat or two, until his patience ran out. “Maybe what?”

“Would you be willing to help me fix up my house?”

Draco’s heart leapt, but he tried to look unaffected. “Probably. What do you mean by ‘fix up’?” 

“I need to buy some things, and fix some things, and just… make it look nicer. Cleaner and newer.”

“I could do that with you,” Draco said, wondering how much leeway Harry would allow him. “That could even be fun. Did you have anything in particular in mind? Colours or anything?”

Potter turned to him and smiled. “My favourite colors are blue and orange,” he began, and he started to talk about some of his ideas for new carpeting, new furniture, new wall coverings.

Draco listened as well as he could, but soon found himself yawning and with Potter’s head on his shoulder.

“It’s a glorious night,” he said quietly, and snaked an arm around Potter’s back. 

“Mm,” Potter agreed. “I like living in London. I think we get less rain here.”

“What? That’s crazy! What England do _you_ live in, Potter?”

“This one!” Potter said, laughing and pulling away just enough to look Draco right in the eye. “And why the hell did you call me Potter? Call me Harry! I call you Draco!”

“Er,” Draco began, now very uncomfortable. “No, you don’t. You don’t call me anything.”

“Of course I do,” Potter said, looking hurt. “I call you Draco all the time.”

Draco didn’t want to make Potter mad, but this was utter nonsense. He looked at his feet, unsure how to call Potter out without pissing him off. 

Potter seemed to see that something was wrong, and he awkwardly patted at Draco’s hand. “I call you Draco,” he said. “And I want you to call me Harry. I mean, for Merlin’s sake, we’ve had sex a bunch of times. I think we should be on a first name basis!”

“I can try to call you Harry,” Draco said, willing to move on. “It might feel a little odd, though. I’ve been thinking of you as Potter since we were eleven.” He smiled a little and tried to look Potter in the eye.

“I do call you Draco, don’t I?” Potter looked distressed, now, and Draco didn’t like it. He needed Potter happy, randy, and relaxed for the foreseeable future. 

“It’s not important,” Draco said. He picked up his dirty plate and fork and turned to Potter. “Should we put our plates in the sink, or… how do people do this if they don’t have house-elves?”

“We carry them downstairs and clean them with magic,” Potter said, but he was frowning. “It’s important to _me_. What have I been calling you, then?”

“I don’t want to make a big deal out of this,” Draco said, looking down at his dirty plate. “You’re doing me a huge favour, and we’ve never been friends, and I don’t want to ask too much, or be a burden.”

“Damn,” Potter said. “You’ve really changed. I’d ask what the hell happened, but I think I know.” He sighed. “Come downstairs with me, all right?” He picked up his dirty plate and fork and stood. Draco did the same and followed him down the stairs, silent and worried.

Potter cleaned the dishes with his wand and put them away. Then he turned and put his arms around Draco and sighed. “Spend the night? The rest of it, I mean?”

Draco nearly asked if Potter really still wanted him to, but he wasn’t quite that stupid. So he nodded and followed Potter up the stairs. Potter got into the bed naked, so Draco did as well, though normally he never slept in the nude. 

This time, they didn’t cuddle.

Draco couldn’t help but feel tight and prickly all over. He was completely fucking this up, that was suddenly obvious. Potter would fuck him a few times, and his magic would improve a little, but then he would piss Potter off too much – just by being himself – and he would have to open his arse up to some perverted, nasty Healer.

He fell asleep eventually, long after Potter’s breathing evened out and he started to snore quietly.


	13. Chapter 13

Draco woke alone, and this felt even worse than falling asleep next to a previously cuddly Potter. _Harry_. He was going to have to work on that.

He dressed in the clothing he had worn to _Harry’s_ house, then went looking for his host. He found _Harry_ in the aged, ratty library, wearing denims and a Chudley Cannons shirt, staring at his Pensieve. He was frowning, barefoot, and looking slightly lost.

 _Harry_ looked up when he heard Draco come in. He looked… chagrinned. “You were right,” he said out of nowhere. 

“Harry?” Draco said. It felt good in his mouth, and he almost smiled.

Harry grinned hugely when Draco called him by his first name. Then he frowned again. “I was so sure,” he said, looking down at his Pensieve again. Then he looked up, and his face wore an apology. “I was so sure I’d called you Draco a bunch of times that I went looking for proof. I was going to tease you with it. Maybe even demand sexual favours in payment.” He blushed bright for a moment, and as the colour faded, he continued to speak – looking down at his bare feet. “Turns out, I haven’t been calling you anything. Not out loud, anyway. But I want you to know, you’ve been Draco in my head! For a really long time!”

Feeling heat in his own cheeks, Draco sauntered over to Harry as confidently as he could, and put his arms around him. Bending down to nuzzle Harry’s temple, he whispered. “I believe you. Does this mean _I_ get to demand sexual favours?”

Harry giggled. “Maybe,” he said, and his face got hot against Draco’s lips. “How about breakfast first?”

“Definitely,” Draco said. He was very hungry. “But I should tell Mother where I am. I didn’t warn her that I would be spending the night.”

“Damn!” Harry said. “Please! Use my Floo? I’ll go start the eggs and bacon. Sound good?”

Draco nodded and they walked downstairs together. Harry headed for the kitchen and Draco turned into the lounge. He found the Floo powder above the fireplace and took a deep breath. He really wasn’t sure how Mother would react.

Mother came to the Floo so quickly that Draco felt guilty. “I’m so sorry, Mother,” he began, but after searching his eyes for a moment, she smiled and put up her hand. 

“Stay as long as you like, dear one,” she said with sincere warmth. “I am glad you let me know you are well. Now, go enjoy the company of your new friend.”

Draco almost protested. He and Harry Potter were hardly friends. But he didn’t know what they _were_ , and he didn’t particularly want to suss that mystery out with his _mother_. So he nodded, smiled politely, and closed the connection. Then he headed for the kitchen. Bacon and eggs sounded just about perfect.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“That was just about perfect,” he praised as he put his napkin down. “Who knew you could cook?”

“I’m glad you liked it,” Harry said, smiling nervously. “Er, I wanted to thank you for staying over last night. I really liked having you here.”

“It was very kind of you to invite me,” Draco said stiffly. If he was about to be dismissed, he should say goodbye before Potter could kick him out. He stood, but Potter grabbed his wrist. “I should be—” he tried to say, but Potter barreled over his words.

“You can go if you need to,” he said in a rush, “but I owe you sexual favours!” His face turned bright red but he didn’t break eye contact with Draco. “From the name thing,” he said, more quietly. 

“Well,” Draco said, uncertain. “If you were serious about that….” He didn’t sit, but he did rest one thigh against the table.

Harry nodded fast, and then he stood up without letting go of Draco’s wrist. He walked around the table and Draco turned his back to it, casually spreading his legs just slightly apart, hoping Harry would stand close, in between. Hoping also that if Harry _didn’t_ want to crowd in, that he wouldn’t even notice what Draco had done.

Harry stepped in between Draco’s legs without hesitation, and Draco felt a bit more confident. “If I can have anything…” Draco said, allowing a tease to become audible in his voice. He still felt nervous, but that lessened even further when Harry stroked one finger down his arm.

“Within reason,” Harry said, looking a little nervous.

“I’d like your mouth again.” Draco smiled and put his hand on Harry’s waist.

“Mm,” Harry grinned widely. “On your lovely cock?”

“That too,” Draco agreed. “But first….” He kissed Harry, and he responded with enthusiasm.

Kissing Harry was _wonderful._

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

They ended up in bed again. Draco got about as much of a blowjob as he could possibly take without coming, and then they tried fucking with Harry sitting on a big old chair and Draco sitting on his lap with his back right up against Harry’s chest. Draco ended up in charge of the fucking when they did it this way. Harry just sat underneath him and inside him, holding gently onto Draco’s arms. Draco braced himself on the chair, tiptoe on the floor, and bounced on Harry’s cock until he came so hard into the spelled cloth that he got woozy. Then Harry kindly helped him over to lay face first on the bed with his arse in the air, and once the cloth was in the stasis box Harry fucked Draco so beautifully that when he came, filling Draco’s body with more Pure Magic, Draco fainted for real. 

Several minutes later, finally able to move again, Draco dragged himself off the bed and fished his wand out of his cloak. Then he cast charms to clean himself and Harry, to remove all the wrinkles from his clothing – even as it lay in a heap on the floor – and what the hell, clean and perfume Harry’s arse, anus, and the first inch or three (he hoped three) of Harry’s rectum.

“What the hell?” Harry yelped. 

“You’ve done so much for my magic,” Draco purred, climbing back on the bed, wand still in hand, “that I think you deserve a reward.”

Rimming was brilliant. Especially when Harry returned the favour. Then they moved to a mutual position, and Draco had to work hard to remember to actually lick Harry’s arse while Harry’s licked his. Then they threw a spell cloth and a heavy woolen cloak over Draco’s cock and Harry fucked Draco’s mouth until Draco came and Harry flooded Draco’s head with Pure Magic.

After that, they really did need to nap.


	14. Chapter 14

They could fuck six to eight times a day before things started to hurt. So, they did. Draco had no particular reason to go home and Harry didn’t really want him to. So his mother’s house-elf brought him clean clothes every morning and he spoke to Mother via the Floo every few days. 

Together they slowly worked on fixing up Harry’s house. Draco knew all about how to order furniture and such via owl and Floo, and his mother gifted Harry an adolescent Eagle owl that her own owl had hatched some months before. This seemed to make Harry very uncomfortable; either because he was getting a new owl, or because he was getting something from Narcissa Malfoy, but he nonetheless checked his library for a foreign language dictionary, dug up a Turkish/English one, and promptly named the owl Siyah in Mother’s honour: Siyah apparently Turkish for “black.” He even sent Mother a thank you note, and Draco only had to suggest it once.

Then Harry mostly ignored Siyah, and interacted with her as little as he could.

But they had an owl in the house now, and this meant they didn’t have to shop for Wizarding goods in public, be seen together on Diagon, or even try to make decisions in front of anyone unless they were shopping Sainsbury’s. They received home decorating catalogs, Draco made suggestions, Harry usually followed them, and the deliveries were all made via Floo and owl. Carpeting and wall covering could be delivered with installation spells included, if you paid the fees. Harry was more than willing to pay extra in order to keep installers and salespeople out of his home.

“I’ve circled all the wing backed chairs I like, Draco, but I’d like your opinion.” Harry pushed the catalog across the table when Draco came in the kitchen. “How’s your Mum?”

“She’s well,” Draco said. “She says you’re taking good care of me.” He felt a bit of heat in his cheeks, but Harry just grinned. 

“We’re eating very well, at the least,” he agreed. “But, the chairs?”

“Let me grab some of this breakfast you worked so hard to make, first.”

“Of course,” Harry agreed, but he shoved the catalog forward one more time while Draco was spooning eggs and bacon onto his plate.

“I heard that,” Draco said, laughing a little. He decided to sit next to Harry instead of across from him, and leaned over the table to pull the catalog back before he sat down. Harry took the opportunity to grope his arse.

“Quit that,” Draco chastised with a smile, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. He opened the catalog and propped it up against the sugar bowl. Harry pointed at the first chair he had marked with a thick red circle. Draco sat down and picked up a piece of bacon with his fork. “I like that one all right, but it’s a little fussy. Not what you usually like.”

“Do you like it, though?” Harry picked up his own bacon in his fingers and Draco looked pointedly down at his hand. Harry ignored him and waited for an answer.

“It wouldn’t match anything else in the house,” Draco said, and flipped the page. The next one Harry had circled was tall and masculine, but Draco pronounced it “too narrow.” The next one was “ugly” and the one after that “dull.” Then he turned the page twice, and found something that made him stop and look again. “I like this one,” he proclaimed. “What color were you thinking?” 

“Yellow,” Harry said. “With blue stripes, maybe. I thought it would look great in the library next to the two blue armchairs we got delivered last week.”

Draco took a bit of eggs and thought about this. “That would be good with this chair. If the stripes were up and down, though. Vertical.”

“Of course!” Harry said. He sounded a bit horrified. “But you like the shape?”

“It looks really good,” Draco agreed. “Not too narrow. Wide enough for both of us.” He put one hand on Harry’s thigh while he ate more eggs. “I like the arms. They look the right height for bending me over. I could hold on to them easily. But they’re also the right width and height for you to fuck me in your lap. And it’s tall enough that your head would have support in that position, too.” He dragged his fingertips up Harry’s thigh an inch or so, until he was very close to Harry’s cock. Harry spread his legs a bit. “This company carries good, high-quality fabric. We shouldn’t have any difficulty cleaning it, even if we got, say, a lot of come and lube on there.”

Draco felt Harry take his wrist very delicately, and then Harry moved Draco’s hand right over his erection, which was nearly full.

Draco squeezed him gently but didn’t look at him. He took one more bite and then put his fork down and pointed at the chair they both liked. “I also like the thick wooden legs. They are decorative, but not overdone. Even better for us, they are heavy, but not clunky looking. I think this chair could take a heavy thumping.”

“Oh?” Harry said, using Draco’s hand to slowly rub his cock.

“I think this chair might even be strong enough for me to put my whole weight on the arms,” Draco said. “I could rest across it like that, sort of sideways?” He waggled his finger back and forth over the photo, to indicate his meaning. While doing so, he squeezed Harry’s cock and then began to unfasten Harry’s pyjama bottoms. This pair had little metal snaps, which were hard to undo with one hand, but not impossible. “That would put my arse way up in the air for you, and you could just—” Draco paused to pull Harry’s erection fully from his pyjamas, and he rubbed Harry’s damp cockhead in a circle, covering Harry’s head with his own pre-come. Then he started talking again. “—slide your cock right into me.”

He smiled and finished his last bite of eggs, then stood up, pulled a cloth from his dressing gown pocket, yanked his own pyjama bottoms down and pulled his dressing gown aside. “Yes. I think you should buy this chair, Harry,” he said.

Harry stood up and slid a finger into Draco’s arse, which was already wet with lube. “Didn’t just chat with your Mum, eh?” 

Draco nodded and moaned out “Enter!”

“Your wish is my command, Draco,” Harry said, and slid his cock into Draco’s arse. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Sometimes things got awkward between them, but if Draco couldn’t bypass a fight by just swallowing his opinion or distracting Harry with something unrelated, then it was always easy to derail a fight with a kiss or a grope, and he resorted to this technique whenever necessary. He was only going to have so much time, three years at most. He intended to let none of his days under Harry’s cock be marred by anything less pleasant than running low on lube, or not being sure whether to have chicken or fish for dinner that night. 

The next thing Draco knew, it was well into August, he needed to go in for a checkup with the Healer from hell, they’d both received _Hogwarts letters_ , of all things, and “Ron and Hermione are back from Australia and want to come over for dinner tomorrow night. You don’t mind, do you, Draco?”


	15. Chapter 15

Draco would never have admitted it (not even under Veritaserum as far as he was concerned), but he was a bit terrified of hosting Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger for dinner. What if Harry wanted his best friends to move into the house, too? By now he’d been essentially living with Harry since their first successful sexual encounter more than five and a half weeks before, and – though he knew it was incredibly stupid – he’d come to think of it as his house, too. He and Harry _never_ spoke of it that way, of course, and Draco didn’t have a claim on so much as a drawer of his own. (Thanks to his mother’s two remaining house-elves who took away his dirty clothing every night and brought a clean outfit every morning). But Draco’s shampoo was in the bathroom, his comb was on Harry’s shelf. He had a side of the bed and a preferred set of sheets. He’d convinced Harry to try his favourite loose-leaf Assam, and now that was the tea they usually drank. Also, whether or not either of them ever acknowledged it out loud, Draco’s taste in color, pattern and décor had been stamped all over the house.

They never, ever spoke of what would happen when Draco had been healed. But this disease took three years to treat, so Draco felt justified in ignoring this question. It wasn’t the elephant in the room at all. More the elephant lumbering slowly down a very long street toward the house. It would arrive eventually, and Draco would deal with it then. 

Draco used his wand as infrequently as he could get away with. Far better to rely on Harry than to fail in front of him.

They didn’t actually do much magic anyway. They had a lot of sex. They got a lot of sleep. They looked at lots and lots of home decorating catalogs and occasionally Harry would actually make a decision and get something delivered. Then they would spend all day deciding where to put the new piece of furniture, or with Harry obsessively reapplying installation spells over and over until the wallpaper patterns or carpet seams all matched up perfectly. 

They took long daily walks, often to the supermarket. Harry occasionally brought Draco out to see a Muggle film. For Harry’s birthday they saw a film, baked a cake, and had loud sex on the roof. They didn’t see anyone else all day long except the Muggles they passed on the street and at the cinema. 

They cooked and ate almost every meal at home. Twice they ate at a Muggle restaurant, but Draco had never been so uncomfortable in his life, and they didn’t try a third time. It was like visiting a foreign country where he almost spoke the language, but not really. It was nothing like the cinema, where Draco didn’t have to make any decisions or speak to anyone but Harry. It was nothing like Sainsbury’s, which was just a food market, underneath all the colorful labels and plastic wrappings.

They had invited George Weasley over for dinner once, but the teasing had been more than Draco could handle. Especially once George managed to get them to explain why Draco had moved into Harry’s house for the summer. Draco’s ears didn’t stop burning for three days.

Draco still had no real understanding of how to cook, but he could help Harry in the kitchen nonetheless. He fetched things, and chopped things. He was far better at deboning fish than Harry was, and he could trim the fat from a cut of beef better than the butcher at the Sainsbury's down the street. He also knew what he liked to eat, and prided himself on being creative and helpful when the inevitable “what should we have for dinner” question arose.

They began planning for the dinner with Ron and Hermione right after Harry mentioned it, and – at Draco’s request – they walked to Sainsbury's not long after finishing lunch. There they chose a large cut of beef, a bag of brown rice, two heads of fresh cauliflower, and everything Draco would need to make a big green salad. He loved salad, largely because he could do those all by himself. Making one required no expertise he didn’t already have.

When they got home Harry sliced and marinated the steak. Draco made an enormous salad and Harry divided it into two bowls and put one under a stasis charm. They would share the first one together that night and have the second with their guests on Saturday. Harry wanted to prepare the cauliflower early as well, but Draco didn’t, so he decided they could do it later. That’s not what he said to Harry, of course.

“I can chop the cauliflower, Harry,” he said, smiling. “I think it’s hilarious how the florets look so much like little white balls. No cocks, sadly, but you didn’t want to buy the sausages.” He stood and smoothed his hands down slowly over his crotch, pretending to brush away green crumbs left behind from chopping salad. 

“Speaking of which,” he said, picking up the knife and cutting board, then turning and bending just enough to show off his arse when he put them in the sink, “We really should have. What are we going to have for dinner tonight? Oh for pity’s sake, my hands are covered with tiny scraps of spinach.” Draco leaned his hip against the sink and stuck his longest finger in his mouth. He fellated it earnestly for a few seconds, watching Harry’s eyes glaze over.

“How long,” Harry began, then he swallowed. “I mean, er, how long since I came in your mouth?”

Draco slowly pulled the finger out of his mouth, leaving it to pull gently at his bottom lip while he pretended to count.

“Well,” he said, smiling shyly, “right before we ate lunch you pounded my arse here on the kitchen table.” Harry nodded, looking down at the table for a moment before looking up at Draco again.

“Before we started making lunch you let me suck your dick for a few minutes, but then you said you wanted to come in my arse, so you pulled my trousers down in the library and I braced myself against that big armchair near the window.” 

Draco put a different finger in his mouth and cast his eyes up. He actually did have to think to remember which sex act was immediately before the one with the chair. “Er,” he said with some glee, “and before that, when we were lounging in bed this morning, we sixty-nined for a while, but then you had me get on my hands and knees so you could fuck me from behind. We watched each other come in that mirror you hung up last week. 

“You know, Harry,” he said, and put his thumbs in his pockets and his hands on his hips – intentionally pointing eight of his fingers at his hardening cock. Harry stared openly at Draco’s crotch for a long moment, until Draco restarted his sentence. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to be able to deal with that mirror. It seemed super sexy at first, but I’m starting to think it’s distracting. I want to _feel_ your big cock inside me a lot more than I want to spare any thought to what I _look like_ while your big cock is fucking me hard, you know?” 

Harry nodded slowly and Draco was reasonably sure Harry hadn’t a clue what he was saying. “Of course,” Draco mused with a big smile, “we could always watch ourselves after the fact, in your Pensieve. I don’t know why we hardly ever do that.” Draco moved his fingers slightly and watched Harry watch him. “Why do you think that is?” Draco asked, and then he waited for an answer.

Harry said nothing.

“Oh, but you asked when I last swallowed your come,” Draco said after a heartbeat or three. “I think it was yesterday afternoon. Remember, when I was standing in the window looking out at the park, and you came and stood right behind me, and then I rubbed my arse against you,” Harry stood up but Draco just kept speaking. “And you got hard really fast. I had a cloth in my pocket—”

Harry nodded as he pushed his chair away from the table. “It was so smart of you to start carrying those everywhere,” he said fervently.

“Thank you,” Draco agreed, casting his eyes down. He inflected his voice with more warmth. “I have a few in my pocket right now, as it happens. At any rate, I distinctly remember not only getting on my knees and opening my mouth for your cock, but actually sucking you all the way to orgasm. Your Pure Magic always feels so brilliant, Harry. I was terribly glad to actually get to swallow your come yesterday.” Harry stepped away from the table and took the four steps to Draco. He put one hand on Draco’s hip and one in his hair.

“Want to do it again?” Harry asked with gravel in his voice, and Draco kissed him slow and soft. 

“Always,” he whispered honestly, and gracefully sank to his knees right there in front of the kitchen sink. He unlaced his trousers and pulled out his cock as he did, fished a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around himself. “Enter,” he said firmly. Then he looked up at Harry, winked ostentatiously, and opened his own mouth wide. 

Harry finished getting his own erection out, and answered eagerly, “My pleasure.” Harry wiped a scant drop of pre-come onto Draco’s lower lip and Draco sucked it into his mouth. He practically craved that taste after nearly six weeks of this. Medically, Harry was supposed to come in Draco’s throat, and his dick was long enough to penetrate past Draco’s soft palate and through the tight entrance just beyond. As a result, Draco had worked to suppress his gag reflex, and these days he rarely tasted Harry’s come. 

Someday he would be cured, and he could offer Harry blow jobs that weren’t constrained by this treatment. Surely, even after their arrangement ended, Harry would be willing to let Draco fall to his knees and give him the occasional blow job? Even if those blow jobs were a little more to Draco’s taste and less about a constant push to deep throat and get Harry off quickly and Draco off quicker?

Relaxing his mouth and releasing his mind from uncomfortable thoughts, Draco took Harry’s balls in one hand and his own cock in his other hand. He would never come first if he didn’t stop thinking and start feeling. 

He had finally learned that he could ramp up the action of the spell cloth with his hand, and he stroked himself vigorously until the thing got the message that it needed to jerk him off harder. It sped up and even managed to occasionally caress his balls, so he concentrated on how good that felt while humming his smug satisfaction at the way Harry’s dick was filling his mouth and teasing into his throat. 

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry said, playing with Draco’s hair. “So beautiful.” 

Draco thought comments like that deserved extra technique. He tried to smile as he both sucked Harry’s cock and stroked the underside of Harry’s dick with his tongue. 

“You gonna come soon?” Harry asked him. “I’m holding back already.”

Draco let his hand speed up on his own balls, adding to the sensations the cloth offered for his cock. He could feel the pleasure stacking up quickly. The problem was he wanted something in his arse. He tried to reach under his balls for his arsehole. His clothing was in the way, but he could reach his perineum, and that was probably going to be good enough. He let go of Harry’s balls and put both of his hands on himself, then relaxed his mouth and stopped thinking about doing a stellar job of sucking cock. Harry was obviously enjoying this. He’d just said he was trying not to come too soon. 

Draco found his perineum and pressed on it. He pulled harder on his own scrotum. The feelings of pleasure ricocheted out from his fingers and he finally started to come. Coming with a large dick almost all the way into his throat was a challenge, as Draco was a thrasher. But who needed to breathe? Soon all of the Tainted Magic was locked into the cloth and Draco reached for Harry’s arse. Harry knew how Draco wanted it and began to push gently into the tight circle of his throat. In and out he went, just a few times, while Draco breathed around him, eagerly smelling his masculinity and holding onto the round curves of his arse.

“Gonna come in your throat again, you gorgeous cock sucker,” Harry said, holding onto Draco’s head as he fucked it. The look on his face was incandescent and amazed. He came into Draco’s throat around six or eight times a week, but he still did it as though he’d never before known such bliss could exist on earth.

These days, Harry started to release Pure Magic even before he started to spurt. It was like his body knew why Draco had asked to get on his knees in the first place. Draco had to fight to remain conscious and upright through the flood of pleasure. 

By the time Harry was done enjoying Draco’s mouth, Draco felt positively high on Pure Magic and sexual satisfaction. Harry took hold of Draco’s shoulder and slowly drew his still erect cock from Draco’s mouth. Draco, feeling petulant and impulsive, sucked hard, trying to refuse to let go.

“Ah!” Harry winced. He got his dick the rest of the way out of Draco’s mouth and then, using both his strength and his wand, picked Draco up off the floor and draped him over his own shoulder. “We’ll take a nap now and do our chores later,” he declared. As he carried Draco up the stairs, Draco took the opportunity to shamelessly grab his arse.


	16. Chapter 16

Somehow Draco made it through the rest of that day and the next, and then it was evening and they were ready for Weasley and Granger to come through the Floo. The table had been set, the food was ready to be served, and they were both wearing nice but reasonably casual clothes. Harry wore his newest denims and a simple emerald green jumper Draco had suggested. Draco wore black lace-up trousers that weren’t tight anywhere, and that royal blue silk tunic he’d worn for their first successful hook-up.

Over the course of the day Draco had sucked Harry off once and been fucked good and hard twice more. Each sexual encounter had been satisfying, but they usually had sex at least seven times a day, and Draco wanted more than three. Worse, Draco was still quite nervous and uncomfortable about needing to receive Harry’s two best friends. He still worried that Harry was intending to ask both or either of them (which would be worse?!) to move into the house. Worried, because he had never once found the courage to ask Harry about his plans on the matter. So at quarter to seven in the evening he found himself sitting by the library fireplace pretending to read a book and working hard not to point out that “just one more fuck can’t hurt, I’m sure we can finish and get all cleaned up before they get here,” when Granger emerged into the lounge, laughing and smiling and ignoring Draco completely. 

Fighting the urge to run from the room and hide somewhere, Draco stood up and tried hard to smile. Weasley came through the Floo next, and unlike Granger, he noticed Draco right away. “Malfoy?” he said, and Draco couldn’t tell which one of them he was asking.

But Potter heard him, and seemed to assume Weasley was asking him. To Draco’s relief, he stepped closer and put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. He smiled at Weasley. “Draco is staying with me this summer,” he said. Then he squeezed Draco’s shoulder, looked up and smiled at him. Suddenly exhausted, Draco smiled back, this time with genuine happiness. 

Weasley, he realized right away, had noticed.

“Are you two hungry?” Draco asked. He stepped away from the Floo and Harry followed, and then their guests sat themselves on the new sofa without awaiting further invitation. “Harry has made a lovely dinner,” he said, feeling awkward when no one responded.

“I’ll go get us some drinks!” Harry said, and then he walked right out of the room.

“I’ll help!” Weasley said, popping off the couch. Draco didn’t know what to do, so he sat down a few feet away from Granger and stared at her feet, wondering why she wasn’t talking. “How was Australia?” he finally said, and made himself look at her face. She looked back at him, politely confused. 

“I was eventually successful,” she said, as though this made sense. 

Draco wished he’d encouraged Harry to talk about Granger and Weasley, even if only so he would have some idea what to say to them tonight. He longed for Harry to return to the room. He nodded at her, hoping she would say more. 

“My parents have decided to stay there, though. They prefer the climate, and when they realized how easy it would be for me to visit them, and how hard it would be for them to return to England….” She stopped speaking, as though it were now his turn, and he was neglecting social niceties to not have already interrupted.

“I can admit,” he said slowly, “that I don’t really know anything about how all of that works for Muggles.”

Granger was partway through an explanation of Muggle emigration, citizenship and airplanes when Harry and Weasley returned, half a dozen bottles and jugs floating obediently behind. Harry and Weasley were each holding both a mug and a wine glass in each hand, so that each of the four of them could appropriately drink whatever they chose. Draco couldn’t quite believe he and Harry hadn’t thought to take care of any of this in advance, and he leapt to his feet and began to help Harry pull levitating beverages from the air and arrange them on a side table. 

Harry poured a pumpkin juice and handed it to Granger, and Draco asked Weasley what he would like. 

“I can get my own, thanks,” Weasley said, suspicion colouring his tone, and Draco didn’t know whether to blush or bristle. Instead, he poured himself half a glass of white wine and sipped it.

“Hermione!” Weasley said, a mug full of ale now in one large paw, “you should see what Harry’s done to the place!”

Harry poured himself a pumpkin juice and added a generous shot of GingerTiger. Draco had suggested Harry try it. It was a whiskey Draco’s father had liked to give away as gifts to people whose attention or assistance he was courting, so Draco assumed it must be very nice. Oddly enough, Lucius didn’t drink the stuff himself. 

Drink in hand, Harry sat on his new couch and gestured for Draco to join him, and then to snuggle in. Only when Draco was nestled next to him did Harry start to respond to Weasley’s comments.

As their guests stared, Harry pulled Draco closer by his waist, and bragged about all the help Draco had been in redecorating the house. “I’m glad you noticed all the work we’ve been doing all summer. Draco helped me with everything. He picked this couch, and those chairs. He helped me choose all the fabrics. I particularly love the way we color-coordinated the rooms. I’m sure you’ve noticed that this room is mostly these three related shades of green,” Harry waved vaguely at the carpet, walls and furniture. “But we added little gold and white accents. Upstairs, the library is similar, but it’s mostly blue with a few yellow stripes and accents. I just love it.” Harry turned and flashed a huge grin at Draco, and Draco relaxed slightly into Harry’s embrace. “After dinner we should give you the grand tour. But I’m hungry! Can we go eat now?”

Granger laughed. “Of course we can, but you sound so much like Ron!” Then the three of them laughed, and Draco smiled, too. They all stood to head for the dining room. Draco could feel Weasley and Granger’s eyes upon him, but Harry’s hand on his waist was far warmer, and made their discomfort and curiosity feel much less invasive.

“Where are we going?” Weasley asked when they didn’t head to the kitchen. 

“There’s a dining room now!” Harry answered enthusiastically. “We’ll eat in there!”

“Oh,” Granger said once they were all in the dining room. “I remember this room. It was full of….”

“Trash,” Harry said. “It’s okay, Hermione, you can say it. It was full of trash. Draco and I have done a lot of work. What do you think?”

Granger and Weasley looked around as Draco took dinner off the sideboard and put it on the table. Soon they were all seated.

“I think it looks great, Harry,” Weasley said supportively.

“Oh, I love cauliflower,” Granger said, and began to serve herself. Soon they all had some of everything and Draco had no idea what to do. He ate some steak and hoped someone else would say something. 

“Australia was amazing,” Weasley soon began, and then the three of them were talking. Draco found dinner terribly awkward. The best part of the three of them talking nonstop was that they paid little attention to him, and did not seem to notice that he had almost nothing to add. 

But he did listen. Granger and Weasley talked about their trip to Australia, and Draco found himself quietly astonished at Granger’s insane bravery and reckless magical skill. No pureblood, he was quite sure, would have even _thought_ to save her parents from a crazed lunatic by erasing their memories and sending them to the other side of the earth. But Granger hadn’t just come up with the idea, she’d pulled it off, and then undone it again after. Draco found himself both moved and impressed. He thought he loved his parents more than most teenagers, but his “solutions” for their problems hadn’t been anywhere near as creative. Or effective.

He also noticed how Weasley spoke to, and of, his girlfriend. His respect for her was almost palpable. The only crack in it was his need to keep her safe. Granger occasionally chafed at the way Weasley’s fear for her could manifest as patronizing behavior. Draco suspected, however, that the two of them would manage to work that out. 

Before tonight he would have told Harry that Weasley was too much a buffoon for a witch as intelligent, intellectual, and hard-working as Granger. But he could see that Weasley had changed since the last time Draco had paid attention. Since that would have been about fifth year, he thought he could be forgiven for having such an outdated impression. He did think he needed to learn from this, however. Everyone had changed in the war, not just him.

After Australia was exhausted as a topic, their Hogwarts letters were raised. “We’re all going back, of course,” Granger stated, as though no one could doubt such a thing.

Draco very much questioned that any of them had been as sure as Granger, but he also knew that he wanted to be near Harry, and that Harry would want to be near Granger and Weasley. Who wanted to be with each other. It was easy to see where this was going, so he went ahead and spoke. “Harry and I haven’t discussed it yet, but I think it would be brilliant.” 

Granger turned and bestowed a grand grin upon him. “Won’t it, though?” she said. “A whole year to just… learn. No war, no Voldemort….”

“No Umbridge!” Weasley said, getting into the idea.

“I think I might like that,” Harry said, sounding uncertain. “I’d always thought I would want to be an Auror, but now, with the wand stuff…”

The four of them stopped talking, and Draco remembered Harry’s speech to the Dark Lord just before he ended the war. Learning that _he_ had been Master of the Elder Wand for a short while, without ever holding it, had been terrifying. Learning about it in front of the entire Hogwarts community and nearly everyone who lived in Hogsmeade had been even worse. 

When Harry had revealed the story of the Elder Wand to everyone, he had ended his career as an Auror before it could begin. And he had sent the whole Malfoy family into a horrible limbo that had only ended when the Aurors had come for Draco’s father the next day, but had explicitly left Draco and his mother behind. “You will not be changed with any crimes,” the two of them had been told by a sneering Auror who seemed inches from brutality. “Kingsley Shacklebolt’s orders.”

Suddenly, Harry was squeezing Draco’s hand. Draco looked over with gratitude, and Harry continued. “And, you know, I’m really fine with not being an Auror. Now that the war is over, and I’ve had nearly two months to just… be myself and live, I don’t think I would want to be an Auror even if I could. Spending a year at Hogwarts… it will give me a chance to figure out what I want to do instead. I have no idea!”

Weasley looked at his girlfriend, then at Draco’s hand still clutched in Harry’s. “Looks to me like we’re all going back to Hogwarts, then.” He raised his glass. “To Hogwarts!”

They all raised their glasses. “To Hogwarts!” 

“To studying whatever interests us, without having a war hanging over our heads!” Granger said, in a surprisingly upbeat tone.

“To being a real teenager for a year!” Draco said, feeling almost like a part of the group. 

“To a whole year of someone else doing all the cooking and cleaning!” Harry said, and laughed hysterically when Granger threw her red linen napkin at his head.


	17. Chapter 17

As the evening wore on, Draco appreciated everything Harry did to try to make him feel like part of the group, but it could only go so far. Eventually, when Weasley cracked yet another inside joke that Draco didn’t understand but that brought the other three to tipsy tears, he smiled, stood, and began to clear the table by hand.

Harry looked up at him, eyebrows raised and a question on his face, but Draco smiled at him and forced himself not to lean over and kiss him. “I’ll take care of it,” he said quietly. “You have fun with your friends.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked him. But when Draco nodded and smiled, Harry accepted it, and Draco felt relieved. Until he realized Granger had followed him into the kitchen with all the rest of the dirty dishes trailing after her through the air like obedient children. “Oh,” he said, caught off guard and disappointed not to be alone. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

Without a word, she carefully covered first the worktop and then the table with dirty plates and serving dishes. When they were all settled safely, she turned back to him.

“You’ve felt left out for much of the evening,” she said bluntly. “I wanted to apologize. Harry and Ron and I have been close for years, but it is obvious that you’ve become extremely important to him over the summer—”

Draco felt his face heat and hid his blush by turning to put things in the sink.

“—and I wanted to let you know that I, personally, am glad for the way you’re making him happy.” She came to stand by him at the sink, stacking dirty dishes by hand in a pile next to him. 

“Thank you,” he managed. “It’s quite temporary though. Harry is… helping me. With a medical problem, oddly enough. When I am healed, I expect he’ll be eager to move on.”

“But you won’t be,” Granger finished. Draco turned and looked at her, shock and horror, he realized belatedly, naked on his face. He attempted to wipe them off and saw her pity as he slowly succeeded.

“Don’t be so sure Harry will be eager to get rid of you,” she said when he didn’t respond.

Draco turned the water on and began to fill the sink.

“He looks happy,” she said softly. Then she put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t feel you have to hide in here. I’m going back to the dining room. I hope you’ll join us soon.” She turned away, then turned back to him. “I hope you will call me Hermione,” she added. Then, she left the room. 

Draco busied himself with getting all the dishes soaking. Harry would spell them clean later, but this would speed the work up considerably. And it was the best excuse he could think of to stay out of the dining room.

After he had completely filled the sink, he slowly put all the leftovers away in the refrigerator. He could hear wisps of laughter drifting in from the dining room.

When all the leftover food was stored neatly away, Draco sat at the kitchen table. He didn’t want to wash dishes by hand, but he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Why didn’t they have any magazines in here? _They_ would see if he tried to sneak past the dining room.

“There you are,” Harry said from the doorway. Draco looked up, guilt tingeing his face with heat. Harry held out a hand. “Come back?”

“I thought you would want some time alone with your friends,” Draco replied, not sure whether he was more surprised, pleased, or flustered.

“You’re my friend, too,” Harry said simply. He smiled, and Draco went to him.

They cuddled on the couch, drinking wine for another two hours, until Weasley and Hermione Flooed back to Weasley’s family home.

Not once, all evening, did Harry ask his best friends to move into Grimmauld Place, and no one else brought it up, either. Draco was honestly surprised about it for the next two days, but he didn’t dare ask Harry about it. If Harry hadn’t thought about it, Draco certainly didn’t want to be the one to give him the idea. 

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	18. Chapter 18

The thestral dropped Draco onto a cloud, but the cloud held him safe, and Draco wasn’t afraid. He rolled into the fluffiness and his Quidditch uniform was gone. The cloud started to stroke his cock, and then suck him, and Harry was there, and Harry was sucking his cock, and Draco was waking up in Harry’s bed. The sun was streaming through the gauzy curtains and Harry was looking up at him and he had a cloth and Draco pulled his dick from Harry’s mouth. He loved receiving blow jobs, but he hated getting them, too. What if he came in Harry’s mouth? He must never contaminate Harry with his Tainted Magic. 

Draco rolled over, stuck his arse in the air, and took his cock in hand. He felt Harry get up onto his knees and brace his hands on Draco’s hips. Draco moaned into the mattress when Harry touched him.

“I could have kept going for a while,” Harry said, and he sounded… sad? Surely not. “We’ve both gained a lot of control this summer.”

But he rubbed his erection into Draco’s cleft and took Draco’s balls into one hand to fondle. “This is good, too,” he conceded, and he leaned over to kiss Draco’s spine. Draco arched into Harry, feeling Harry’s warm body all over his back. Summer was waning and now the house was finally the perfect temperature for close contact. A month before they had been sweating constantly and taking a lot of cool showers together. Also, fucking a lot in the shower. Luckily those cloths worked just fine while soaking wet.

Draco pulled a cloth from the bedside table and wrapped it around his cock. “Enter,” he said firmly. “Mmm…” he hummed, deep in his throat, as it began to masturbate him. 

Harry leaned away for a moment, fussing with a drawer and a tube. Then he dropped the lube on the bed near Draco’s shin. “One finger or two?” he asked. 

“Two,” Draco said, feeling more than ready. He thought he could have taken three, but he didn’t think Harry would go for that. He was always so cautious with Draco’s body. Harry slid two wet fingers into Draco’s arse. Draco pushed backward, taking Harry in deep. “Prostate,” he demanded, and Harry complied, finding it easily after weeks of practice. “Yessss,” Draco hissed. “Want to come on your cock,” he insisted. 

He expected Harry to resist, at least briefly, but Harry just pulled his fingers out, and pressed his cockhead to Draco’s hole. He curled himself most insistently against Draco’s back and wrapped one arm around Draco’s shoulder. “Too heavy?” he asked. 

“No,” Draco said. “Fuck me?” The cloth on his dick did something too perfect and Draco made a noise that sounded embarrassingly like a mewl. Harry, damn him, didn’t slide his cock inside yet. Instead he rubbed the head of his cock around Draco’s pucker, in a little circle. He used just enough force to make Draco crazy, but not enough to push inside. Draco tried to shove his way backwards onto Harry’s cock, but they were curled too tightly together. He had no leverage. “Haarrry,” he whined. “Stop teasing!”

“I want to make it last, though,” Harry said, still pushing his cock gently at Draco’s arsehole and holding onto Draco’s torso with both arms. “After breakfast you have to go see your Healer, and I have to go to Hogwarts and talk to McGonagall.” 

Draco wanted to know why Harry planned to talk to the headmistress, but he needed a fuck more than he needed answers. He again tried to force himself back onto Harry’s cock and managed to get the tip of Harry’s cock just inside his arse.

“Ah,” Harry panted into his shoulder. “You impatient fucker.”

“Too damn right,” Draco whined and wriggled. Finally Harry’s patience broke and he shoved his cock all the way into Draco’s arse. 

“Yesss….” Draco hissed, and Harry finally proceeded to take him apart from the inside out.

Not quite seven minutes later they lay entwined, sweaty and sated. Harry’s come was leaking from Draco’s arse and he knew he needed to get up and pull them into a shower, but he didn’t want to leave the bed or Harry’s embrace.

He turned his head enough to look into Harry’s eyes. Harry smiled and reached to stroke Draco’s fringe away from his eye. Draco closed his eyes and smiled as Harry pampered him for a moment, but when Harry took his hand away, and Draco thought he really couldn’t postpone getting up and showering much longer, he remembered what Harry had said before he’d finally started to fuck him. “Why do you need to talk to the headmistress today?” Draco asked.

Harry looked away shyly. “Do you mind if I tell you later, after I meet with her? I don’t know what she’ll say yet, and…” he blushed and Draco felt a small space in his chest melt into a puddle. 

“Of course,” Draco said without planning to. He could no longer refuse Harry much of anything, it seemed. Except, perhaps, the time to tease Draco and withhold sex. Embarrassed, Draco finally found the energy to stand and pull Harry with him toward the shower. Smiling mischievously, Harry came around the bed but lingered with his hands at the top of the stack of spell cloths. “We might not have the time, but what do you say to a cushioning charm for your knees?” He winked. 

Grinning, Draco nodded. “I’m willing to try if you are,” he said. He opened the door and swished his hips as he walked toward the bathroom. 

“If you act like _that_ ,” Harry said, catching up and grabbing Draco’s bare arse cheek, “I think I can get hard again, yeah.” 

They both had to have toast on their way out of the house instead of a real breakfast, but Draco got to Hailer’s in time for his appointment.

Strangely though, it wasn’t the Healer he loathed who knocked and then entered the exam room. It was a matronly older woman. Her warm smile reminded him a bit of the lady who worked at the bakery counter at the place his mother would take him to as a child, when they went out shopping at the fancy stores on Roy Alley. She had a wise, calm look in her dark brown eyes, and Draco felt himself relax a bit between his shoulder blades. He was quite glad to still be wearing all his clothing.

“Hello, Mr Malfoy.” She stuck out a hand and he shook it firmly but briefly. He might be confused but he still had manners. He could pride himself on that. “I’m Healer Varma.” Her voice was warm and almost sweet, and Draco nodded at her. “Your regular Healer is unavailable due to a medical emergency,” she continued in a gentle voice. “But I am his supervisor, and I am able to take over for this examination. I’ve read your chart. Did you bring the box of cloths?”

Draco nodded and pulled the box from his pocket. He handed it over and watched as Healer Varma opened it and silently waved her wand over it a few times. Cloths shot from the box to array themselves on the counter, and then they began to glow. The ones from the bottom of the box put off the most light. The ones from the last few dozen encounters, though, seemed to give off far less. The ones from the top didn’t seem to glow at all. Healer Varma separated some cloths out of the top part of the stack and Vanished the others with her wand. She cast again, a different spell this time, Draco thought. The cloths floated into the air and now Draco could see that the oldest one had a faint glow about it, the one after that a fainter glow. The rest of them, though, seemed to be solid black. Draco saw no light emerge from any of the others. An icy feeling sank through his chest.

Healer Varma swished her wand and the cloths fell to the work surface. “These results are excellent,” she said with that same warm smile. “Just a few more tests.” She waved her wand over his hands, swabbed the inside of his mouth, and had him lay back on the exam table. She pressed gently on his shirt-covered stomach with her hands, then peered into his eyes with a tiny, bright light coming from her wand. He thought they were done, but then she handed him a thin white hospital gown. “Please disrobe. I’ll return in about ten minutes,” she told him. “It would be very helpful if you could have an erection when I return.”

Draco thought an erection had to be out of the question, especially in that room, but all he had to do was let his mind drift to what he hoped he and Harry would do as soon as Draco got home, and he was more than half hard. Embarrassed and relieved, he reached into the gown and stroked his cock, hoping Healer Varma would knock again, as she had before entering the first time.

When she knocked, he yanked his hand from his cock and sat up, pulling the hospital gown around himself. “Come in,” he said, hunched over his erection, trying to hide it. 

She peered at him. “You are erect?” He nodded, feeling his face go hot. “Very good, Mr Malfoy.” If you would lay on your back now, the last test is a bit invasive, but it should be over quickly.” 

He lay back on the table, face burning, looking at the wall as the large tent formed under his hospital gown. 

“No need to be embarrassed, dear,” Varma said as she pulled the white gown aside, exposing his cock and balls. She looked frankly at him there. Her eyes glittered a little. “You’re quite lovely. Oh, and well endowed, as well.” She snapped gloves on as she smiled at him, and then stroked his cock once, root to tip. “Now, your preliminary results show no Tainted Magic at all, but I know you’ll want to be absolutely sure, as do I. So I am going to apply several extra-sensitive cloths, and you’re going to have an orgasm. The cloths we’re going to use now do not trap Tainted Magic, they _detect_ it. At levels far lower than any other available spells, potions or tests. We’re going to insert one into your rectum, one into your mouth, one will be laid across your chest, and one will masturbate you to orgasm. I need to observe, as the cloths need to be dealt with immediately after your orgasm. Very good?”

She asked this as though Draco had some sort of choice in the matter. He nodded, feeling helpless. He watched her undo the belt and finish opening the gown in order to lay a large, white cloth on his chest, covering him from neck to belly button. Then he cooperated as she physically inserted a soft white cloth deep into his arse with her wand, magically inserted an elaborately folded cloth into his mouth and throat without interfering with his breathing, and, finally, wrapped a similar cloth around his cock, which had lost rather a bit of firmness as all this had occurred. 

Then she began to masturbate him with it. “I thought the cloth would do that!” he tried to say, but he couldn’t much speak with the other cloth in his mouth. 

“Your erection has gone down a bit,” she said, and gave him another warm smile. “I’ll just get the cloth started, then I’ll be able to observe and perform the necessary tests on the cloths once you’ve had your orgasm. Unless you’d like to stroke yourself?”

The thought of wanking in front of a Healer was even worse than this passive acceptance of being wanked by a Healer. Miserable, face on fire, Draco shook his head ‘no’ and stared at the wall, vaguely aware that the Healer was staring avidly at his cock, with what he was unwilling to admit to himself might be lust, twinkling in her warm, brown eyes.

It wasn’t easy to have an orgasm like this, but the cloth in his arse expanded and fucked him like a thick, warm dildo, the cloth on his chest caressed and tweaked his nipples, and the cloth in his throat felt more and more like having Harry’s cock in his throat. The cloth on his cock was as good as any of the black cloths had ever been. He closed his eyes and concentrated on how good it all felt on his skin, doing everything he could to pretend the Healer wasn’t anywhere nearby. And at least he was sort of completely covered by the magical cloths. He tried to pretend they offered privacy and thought about Harry instead.

He came with a small, involuntary grunt, and felt all four of the cloths removed abruptly from his body. As he sat up and wrapped himself back into the gown, Healer Varma whipped all four cloths through the air with her wand and into four different glass containers all filled with a green potion that Draco had not noticed and could not identify. He felt like he should be covered with come and sweat, but the cloths seemed to have taken it all. His skin felt as fresh and clean as if he’d just dried off from a luxurious bath.

The two of them watched as the green potions began to change. Slowly, all four of the green potions went completely clear. 

“Congratulations, Mr Malfoy,” Healer Varma said, turning around and smiling broadly. “You are fully healed!”

Draco did not smile back at the Healer. His face felt too cold and his chest felt too hollow. “I… don’t understand. I thought it would take three years to treat this?”

Healer Varma’s brow wrinkled slightly before she could smooth it out and hide her confusion. “Well, Mr Malfoy, as it implies in the treatment sheet your primary Healer should have given you?”

He nodded once. “I did read it,” he said, and looked down at the floor. “When I first got it. But I don’t remember all the details.” 

He was embarrassed, but her returning smile was generous. “Many patients don’t read it at all. I’m glad you did. At any rate,” she turned away from him just long enough to pull a copy of the same sheet from a cupboard. She stood next to him with it in her hands and pointed to the bottom. “See how it says you can be treated three times a week for one year, but if you schedule twice that many, you’ll be done in half the time?” She pushed the paper at him just a bit.

Draco nodded and took the parchment from her hands. He stared at it. Had he somehow turned “three times a week for a year” into “treatment takes three years?” He didn’t usually make those sorts of numerical mistakes, but he’d been so off-balance when all of this had first been explained to him. The terrifying thought of needing to let that Healer touch him so many times, and then the eagerness to have the excuse to be touched by Harry….

She conjured a chalkboard on the wall and did some arithmetic. He tried to pay attention. “See, fifty-two weeks, multiplied by three treatments, is one hundred fifty six treatments. And half the weeks, twenty-six, multiplied by six a week? That, too, comes to one hundred fifty six treatments, of course. That’s the number of treatments it takes most people to be cured. Or at least cured enough to fall back to a maintenance schedule of one visit per year. And that maintenance schedule, by the way, tends to only be necessary for patients that receive no other exposure to Pure Magic. Once you marry, or otherwise become sexually active, whether with women or men, as long as your sexual partner exudes any Pure Magic at all during orgasm, you shouldn’t require maintenance treatment again. You’re quite likely to exude it yourself, eventually. Once you’ve been so frequently exposed, it is common to reverse the process. I’ve always thought it was like you were teaching your body a new trick.”

She smiled at him kindly, and he tried to relax, but he couldn’t think of a thing to say. Happily, she didn’t seem to need him to speak. She just barreled on.

“Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself! My original point was that it takes about one hundred fifty six treatments to cure a person, and, it seems clear that you’ve received enough treatments in the past month and a half to be cured. I didn’t think to count your cloths before I _Vanished_ them, but you were diagnosed about forty days ago. You would have had to have sex an average of…” she divided one hundred fifty six by forty on her chalkboard and got three point nine. “Just under four treatments a day. Hardly unlikely for a pair of beautiful, healthy young men, enjoying sex together, no?”

A bit shocked by her numbers, Draco shook his head slowly. He and Harry had been having much, much more than four orgasms a day. They often came eight times a day. Had he been “cured” for over two weeks? 

“Haven’t you noticed that your casting has gone back to full strength?”

Conflicted, Draco looked down at the French wand. His magic had seemed full strength for a few weeks, to be completely honest, which was a big part of why he cast as few spells as he could get away with. He was a little terrified of what would happen to him when he told Harry that he was cured, thank you very much, and so there’s no more need for your lovely cock to ever again go anywhere near my greedy arse.

Healer Varma gave him a gentle smile. “Would you cast _Lumos_ for me, please?”

Reluctant, but unable to come up with an excuse not to, Draco lifted his new wand and whispered _Lumos_. Despite his discomfort, nudity, and mixed feelings, he lit up the room.


	19. Chapter 19

Healer Varma congratulated him again, patted him on the shoulder and left the room. While he dressed, he found himself taking the stasis box and a small stack of the self-replicating cloths from a cupboard. He didn’t think, he simply opened cupboards until he found some new, unused black cloths, shrank everything down, and stashed it all in a pocket. He felt like he was in a fog, floating through tasks like a person under Imperius. He would figure out what he was doing, and why, later.

Draco could have Flooed back to Harry’s house as soon as his appointment ended, but he found himself instead wandering down the street into Muggle London. How on earth was he going to tell Harry that he was cured? Already? It had taken almost no time at all. And yet, he realized, it had taken the same amount time for Harry to heal him, as it had for Draco to get thoroughly attached.

A Muggle bumped into Draco’s shoulder and it reminded him of the dozens of times at Hogwarts that he and Harry had used such an encounter as an excuse to spar. Or, at least, he had seen it as an excuse. He’d craved Harry’s attention for years.

But how did Harry feel?

His mind completely empty of answers, Draco eventually found his way to the Ministry, where he was able to Floo back to Number 12, Grimmauld Place with a minimum of glaring and swearing thrown his way by strangers who saw only his height and hair. 

“You were gone a long time!” Harry was already home from Hogwarts.

“Yes, I… I needed to clear my head after my appointment.”

“I hope you didn’t have to spend too much time with that hideous Healer,” Harry said, his forehead crinkling with concern, his smile fleeing. 

“I,” Draco didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t particularly want to tell the truth, either. “I managed,” he finally said. “But I could really use a cup of tea and a lie-down.”

“Of course,” Harry said. “You go rest on the new sofa. I’ll be right there with tea and biscuits. I want to tell you all about my conversation with the headmistress!”

Draco drifted toward the newest sofa. It was brown with red polka dots, very modern and fun, with an abundance of cushions and a matching red throw over the back. He had intended to sit, but found himself curling up under the throw, his back pressed up against the back of the sofa and his head on one of the softer pillows. He closed his eyes and concentrated on evening out his breathing. Were all Healers fucking perverts? He needed a real shower.

Harry appeared with a tray and Draco blinked awake. He could only have been asleep for a few minutes, surely? He felt like he was swimming up from underneath a pile of cotton wool. He sat up, pulling the throw around his shoulders. Harry was pouring him a cup of Assam. Draco took it and warmed his hands, even though he wasn’t cold.

Harry sat next to him, pouring his own cup of tea. “I had to tell Professor McGonagall a little bit about your diagnosis. I should have asked permission from you before I went, but I wasn’t thinking, and I didn’t realize she would need to know about it.” Harry rushed out. He was looking at the floor. “But I think you’ll think it was worth it. We can room together at Hogwarts!”

“We… what?” Draco felt like cold water had been poured into his brain. Of course Harry would have talked to McGonagall about Hogwarts, but… room together? In Slytherin? That made no sense.

“After Hermione and Ron left, I started to think about what it would be like at Hogwarts. And I realized that, unless we got special permission to Floo back here whenever we wanted, we wouldn’t be able to have sex anymore. And that was just not on.”

“Because I need your Pure Magic,” Draco responded, confused as to why Harry hadn’t mentioned it.

“Er, exactly,” Harry said quickly. “That, too.” He put a hand on Draco’s knee. “So I went to ask the headmistress for Floo permission, but she and I got to talking all about what it will be like for us, as Students Of Non-Traditional Age, and all.”

“Students of… what?”

“SONTA,” Harry said, and giggled. “Students Of Non-Traditional Age. Or Eighth-Years, or Returning Post-War Students. They had a lot of potential nicknames for us; but apparently they settled on Students Of Non-Traditional Age. We’re going to have a separate dormitory, with no house distinctions or colors, and everyone will have either one or two roommates. Looks like three of the girls will have to room together, because only seven girls are coming back? But eight blokes are. So far, anyway. And she was already wanting to mix up the old house barriers as much as possible. She called them _barriers_!” Harry interrupted himself, clearly astounded by this choice of words. But Draco was listening intently. 

“Why only fifteen?”

“Wait, what?” Harry seemed to think that was not the right question.

“There were nearly forty of us. A lot more than fifteen of us should want to come back. We need to invite them.” Draco felt the certainty returning to his voice. 

“We, what?” Harry, however, still sounded a little confused. Draco turned to him and looked him in the eye.

“No, scratch that. _You_ need to invite them. You and Hermione and Weasley, I think. All three of you should sign the owls. Then people will actually feel like it is real.” Draco finished his tea and set the cup back on his saucer and then on the tray.

“Shouldn’t the headmis—”

Draco cut Harry off with a hand on his knee. “She already invited them, Harry, and only fifteen are willing. Doesn’t that tell you something? Anyway, which fifteen?” A vision of an incredible year was starting to fizzle into his mind, still very vague, but he knew that, if he, of all people, was not only going to be allowed back into Hogwarts, but also be given special accommodation to fuck like a rabbit in heat, then everyone else should be there, too. Even Goyle, if Draco could help it.

“Er…” Harry still looked lost.

“Am I the only Slytherin?” Draco was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“Well…”

“See, it’s just as I said. You contact Weasley and Hermione, I need to see the headmistress. Oh, and I would absolutely _love_ to room with you. It sounds absolutely wonderful.”

Draco kissed Harry on the cheek, and stood up to walk downstairs to the Floo, the red throw still wrapped around his shoulders. 

“I’ll come back as soon as I’ve had a chance to talk with McGonagall,” he said brusquely. “Can I Floo there?”

Harry nodded slowly, looking dazed and a bit disappointed. Draco headed for the fireplace. He had a class schedule to heavily manipulate.

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	20. Chapter 20

When Draco returned to Harry’s house, he had McGonagall’s sympathy, her promise that not only he - but any other Slytherins who returned - would be safe at Hogwarts, her reassurance that he could room with Harry and no one else, and – perhaps most important of all – her signature on a schedule that would give him almost no chance of accidentally revealing his fully returned magical powers. Or, as he’d shamelessly dissembled to her, a schedule that would not tax his currently obstructed magical powers. 

She had helped him craft a whole year of challenging classes that he could benefit from without much needing a wand. He would be taking Techniques of Experimental Arithmancy; Translation and Manipulation of Ancient Runes; Muggle Studies for sixth, seventh and SONTA; Theoretical and Laboratorical Potions; sixth, seventh, and SONTA Care of Magical Creatures; Analytical and Practical Herbology; sixth, seventh and SONTA History of Magic; and Honors Comparative Astronomy. 

It wouldn’t even look suspicious, he thought. People would be so distracted by his roommate and his presence at Hogwarts at all, that if anything else caused them pause it would almost certainly be the Muggle Studies class, and not the otherwise quite remarkable lack of what Snape had liked to disdain as “wand-waving.” Hell, he’d even taken lower level versions of all of these classes in younger years. Everything but Muggle Studies, anyway. He’d earned high O.W.L.s in five of them. And McGonagall had finally hired a new History of Magic professor: Hazel Bagshot, great-niece of Bathilda, author of “A History of Magic.” Draco found himself looking forward to taking History of Magic. And wasn’t that a strange feeling!

Draco wouldn’t miss Defense Against the Dark Arts at all. Especially since he would have had to take it with Harry. He still hated to fail or look stupid in front of Harry, and he assumed he would for the rest of his life, no matter how this sexual affair ended. Losing out on both Charms and Transfiguration was unfortunate, but he had always done quite well in both. He felt confident that he could study those in his spare time when Harry wasn’t looking. He could probably even sign up to take N.E.W.T.s in them. After all, he still owned the textbooks he’d bought for the previous, disastrous year when the Carrows had been in charge of Hogwarts. 

But he wasn’t sure he even needed those N.E.W.T.s. Like Harry, he had little idea of what he wanted to do with himself when he was done with Hogwarts. It was one of the reasons he was happy to return. 

While Draco was painstakingly crafting this new schedule with the headmistress, as it turned out, Harry had painstakingly written a letter. He wanted Draco’s opinion on it.

>   
>  `Dear Hogwarts classmate,`
> 
> `I was excited to get my Hogwarts letter last week. Excited, but  
>  also surprised. I didn’t know it would be an option for us.`
> 
> `I talked about it with friends, though, and we’ve all decided`  
>  `to go back to Hogwarts to be able to complete our last year of`  
>  `school. My boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, and my best friends,`  
>  `Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, will also be there. For all`  
>  `four of us, this will be a year for choosing a profession. I`  
>  `hope you will come too. It wouldn’t be the same without all of`  
>  `us, you know?`
> 
> `The headmistress tells me that together, we’ll have our own`  
>  `house, and be called SONTA (students of non-traditional age), `  
>  `and have only one or two roommates each. We’ll have our own`  
>  `common room together, just the SONTA students, and be able to`  
>  `decorate it together some. I think there will probably be`  
>  `limits. I don’t know about a budget. But we can prepare for`  
>  `our N.E.W.T.s and be teenagers together for one more year. `
> 
> `The war is over. Let’s go back to Hogwarts together and have`  
>  `what we couldn’t have before. For Hermione, this will be a `  
>  `year of studying everything that interests her, without feeling `  
>  `pressure to take classes that would help her fight the war. For `  
>  `Ron and Draco, this year gives them an opportunity to “be a `  
>  `real teenager for a year.” And personally, I am looking `  
>  `forward to a whole year of someone else doing all the `  
>  `cooking and cleaning. Draco and I have been doing that `  
>  `for ourselves all summer and I’m already sick of it!`
> 
> `Please write Headmistress McGonagall back right away and let her`  
>  `know you’ll be coming back to Hogwarts. It will be brilliant.`
> 
> `Sincerely,`  
>  `Harry Potter`  
>  `And Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley,`  
>  `because they all also want you to come back for our last year, too.`

 

“I…” Draco looked at Harry, who sat at his desk, looking up hopefully at Draco. “I’m your boyfriend?” 

Harry turned bright red and stood up, pushing his chair away from his desk so fast that Draco had to grab it to keep it from falling over and hitting the floor. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, rushing through the words, pacing toward the window. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re depending on, I mean, that you’re sick and I... Er. I obviously read this wrong. I’m sorry. I should have, I mean, it should stay in the letter, though!” He turned back to face Draco again. He was wringing his hands, and Draco stared at them.

“It should?” Draco sat down so he didn’t tip over. Harry wasn’t making much sense, but he’d heard that last part.

“I told McGonagall we, and you know, sharing a room looks, so we should, and I feel like, well. We should leave it in the letter. We have to, really.” He ended in a firm tone, as though he’d made any fucking sense at all.

“I… all right,” Draco said slowly. He wasn’t a hundred percent clear on what he had just agreed to, but Harry relaxed dramatically.

“So, the letter?” Harry said. 

Draco could probably have helped Harry tighten up the letter a lot, but he was too stunned and confused to bother suggesting any such thing. “It’s fine,” Draco said, and he smiled a fake smile at Harry, who didn’t seem to notice how false it was. 

Within minutes Draco found himself making a salad for four, while Hermione went over the letter with Harry and Weasley went out for a tremendous amount of takeaway curry.

That evening they duplicated the signed letter and started owling it to all thirty-two of their (remaining) former Hogwarts classmates. It was true that some of them had already told McGonagall that they would return to Hogwarts, but Hermione was of the opinion that they should personally invite everyone, no matter what he or she had already said to McGonagall. Luckily Hermione had bought her own owl since returning to Britain, and Weasley brought an owl named Pigwidgeon, which he swore was “far less useless these days!” They were also able to borrow two more owls from George. With five owls, even thirty-two letters didn’t take more than a few hours to send out.

Draco put the stasis box and cloths back in the old spot before Weasley and Hermione Flooed home, and told himself that he would tell Harry later. Maybe after they were comfortable at Hogwarts, or when they started to snipe at one another, because Merlin knew, there was no way this could last forever. Later though, when they weren’t in the middle of so many important things. It wasn’t like fucking him was some sort of hardship. Harry enjoyed it plenty.

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	21. Chapter 21

It was strange how quickly September 1st arrived. 

They finished the last little bits of redecorating Harry’s parlour, dining room, bedroom, guest bedroom, and library. All that had been left was buying and hanging two paintings, choosing two throw rugs, and adding wallpaper to the parlour, because Harry finally chose a pattern. Harry said the rest of the house could wait, so they closed up things up for the semester they would be away. Draco thought it would be nice if he found a way to help with the remaining redecorating, but he had no idea how much time he had before Harry figured out that Draco didn’t need him anymore, so he reckoned it was best to just let go of his ideas for the rest of the house.

They tried to eat up everything from the refrigerator that could go bad. This made for a few odd meals, but Draco didn’t really mind. Eventually there was nothing left to eat but cans in the pantry. Harry said those could safely be left for months, no Charms required, and Draco just nodded as though he understood why.

They had George over to dinner once more, and Weasley and Hermione once as well. They saw two more films at the cinema. They went to Diagon Alley and got fitted for their new school robes. That took twenty minutes, since they went in after hours, as a favor from Madam Malkin. They Flooed in, got measured, ordered what they needed, and Flooed right back out again. School books could all be owl-ordered, so that was what they did.

Draco went home to pack, but that only took an hour, since Tappy had already done most of the work.

He and Harry took tea with Mother on August 29th, but they did that in Hogsmeade, at the Bow and Truckle. Mother liked the yarn shop next door. The whole excursion only took two hours. Mother gifted him with Albinoni, one of her owls. She hugged him and told him she was very proud of the person he was becoming. She shook Harry’s hand and said he was a fine young man who was obviously taking good care of her boy. Then she paid the bill and went to the yarn shop. They Flooed home with an empty owl cage. Albinoni followed through the sky.

They had sex every morning before they fully got up, every night before they fell asleep, and every day, too. Though those times became erratic and sometimes sort of infrequent. It was strange to only have sex three or four times a day, but they both knew that it would probably be down to twice a day when they were back at school, so it seemed like weaning themselves a bit was a good plan.

And then it was nearly time to catch the Hogwarts Express.

“How are we going to get to King’s Cross?” Draco asked on August 29th after Harry had fucked him just the way he liked. Once they had both come, Harry liked to pull Draco into his arms and cuddle him to sleep. Draco put up with it, but just to make Harry happy, of course. The fact that he usually woke up still cuddled into Harry only meant that the bedroom could have been warmer.

“Oh,” Harry said, pausing. He lay on his back, staring up at the high ceiling. “Good question. We could walk? It’s really close. But then, the trunks.”

“And the owls,” Draco added, curling onto his side. “You can shrink trunks, but we can’t shrink owls!” They both laughed. 

“Hedwig always used to just fly to Hogwarts. Could Albinoni do that?” Harry took hold of Draco’s hand.

“Yes, I’m sure he could,” Draco said, scratching his fingernails gently down Harry’s chest. “But could Siyah? She’s still fairly young, and, unlike Albinoni, she’s never been there. Hogwarts is six hundred miles away. It seems like a bit of a risk.”

“I think you’re right,” Harry agreed. He turned his head to kiss Draco’s forehead while he thought. “Ok, so we take the owls in cages. Having a lot of stuff with me has never been a problem before!” He shifted in the bed, rolling toward Draco, chest to chest. “I always used to go with the Weasley family, in their car. But I don’t want to sleep there the night before the train, and I don’t own a car.”

“Do you want them to come pick us up in their car?” Draco wondered, not really wanting Harry to say yes, but unable to think of anything else. If it was possible to Floo into King’s Cross, Draco didn’t know how, and side-along Apparition, with two fully packed trunks and two owl cages, seemed like too much to ask of Harry.

“Er, not really,” Harry said. “Is that all right?”

“Definitely all right,” Draco said, coloring his voice with relief. “Except that I don’t know what else to suggest.”

“I’ll ask Hermione,” Harry said firmly, and kissed Draco’s forehead again. They fell asleep quickly. 

Hermione, as it turned out, recommended hiring a Muggle cab. She also pointed out that the Knight Bus would have been an option, but she understood Harry’s desire to stay the hell away from strangers and all potential “fans,” so, a Muggle cab it was. At the last minute they sent Draco’s new owl winging his own way to Hogwarts, and Harry shrank Draco’s owl cage and his own trunk. But Draco’s trunk was full of potions supplies and ingredients which couldn’t be safely shrunk. So when they waited for the cab in the little park across the street from Harry’s house, they had one caged owl and one trunk. 

The driver didn’t bat an eye.

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	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are at the end! One more chapter of the fic, and then a bonus, extra chapter. It turns out, that craptastic healer wrote that memo about how to cure Draco's condition. Tonight, you can read his first draft. With bonus commentary from his boss!

The train jerked into motion, and Draco looked up from his potions journal with confusion. “Where are Weasley and Hermione?”

“Er,” Harry said. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, and looked out the window. “I asked them to let us have a carriage to ourselves,” he admitted. 

“You sly dog,” Draco grinned. He put his reading down and put his hand on Harry’s thigh. “Couldn’t wait until we got into our new room?”

“Heh,” Harry said. He sounded really uncomfortable now. He put his hand on top of Draco’s hand, and Draco stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Harry, and he could hear the ice and clouds creep into his own voice. He tried to fix it. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?” He knew he’d failed when Harry didn’t look him in the eye. He wanted to ask Harry what the bloody hell was going on, but he couldn’t trust his voice and he was afraid of where this was going, so he simply squeezed Harry’s leg instead, and waited.

“While we were packing,” Harry began, and then he huffed and looked out the train window. They were nearly out of London, from the look of the world outside, and Draco forced down a wave of panic.

“While we were packing,” he tried again, “I found that paper you got from that arsehole Healer. You’re healed, aren’t you? I mean, I did the maths. You should have been healed completely less than a month after we started fucking, right? And we’ve been fucking for two and a half months.”

Draco fought down an urge to beg forgiveness. He needed to listen, not assume. So he simply nodded yes, just once.

“I can understand why you wanted to hide it from McGonagall,” continued Harry.“ She wouldn’t be very likely to let us room together if she knew you didn’t need me for medical reasons, right? But I don’t understand why you wanted to hide it from me. It, kind of, it hurts my feelings, all right? Do you not trust me? Even after all of this?”

Draco’s jaw fell open. Harry was giving him _puppy dog eyes_. Harry thought Draco didn’t trust him?

“I…” Draco had very little idea of what to say. The need to beg forgiveness warred violently with a need to reassure him that “of course I trust you, Harry. How could you…? I mean, Merlin. I sleep next to you every night! I trust you with my life. You _saved_ my life!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me the truth, Draco?”

“Because I…” Draco stopped. He couldn’t look Harry in the eye, so he stared at his shoes. He took a deep breath and reached out for Harry’s hands. Harry took them and they each held on tightly. “Because I was too scared to risk the end of our… association. We never spoke about what would come after. I didn’t want it to end. That’s the only reason.” 

“How could you not know how I feel about you? About us?” Harry sounded really hurt, and Draco didn’t know what the hell to say, except… 

“Harry, do you remember, a couple of months ago, when you thought you had been calling me Draco, but it was all in your head? Out loud, you hadn’t actually been calling me anything?”

“But, I… oh.” Harry laughed a little, and Draco looked up again, now feeling a little less insecure. 

“I think I see what you’re getting at,” Harry said. “I think, I…” he paused and looked out the window, apparently gathering his thoughts. Or maybe his courage.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry began in a firm voice. “Will you be my boyfriend?” He lifted one of Draco’s hands up to his lips, and kissed it.

“Damn right,” Draco said, and they giggled until they began to kiss.

“Might as well make good use of this carriage we have all to ourselves,” Draco said, and Harry agreed.

It was the first time they were able to fuck face to face all the way through.

But it was most certainly not the last.

 

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	23. Extra: the original Hailer’s Healers memo

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Merlin, Aloysius, this requires a complete rewrite! You forgot the possibility of someone else treating the patient, you forgot that not all of these patients are teenagers, you forgot the stasis box, you suggest we spread their treatment out way too long, and worst of all you forgot to hide that you _enjoy_ practicing this particular kind of Healing magic. Fix this immediately! Sincerely, Healer Varma, your boss (for now, but if you keep talking to patients like this, we’ll see how long you work here!) 

## Proper sex magic to treat blocked pure and neutral magical release, a.k.a. Tarred Blockage. 

A magic user suffering blocked pure and neutral magical release requires sexual treatment. While colloquially referred to as “sex magic,” these treatments are more properly referred to as simply sexual treatment, as no potions, rituals or special locations are required for these treatments to remove the tarred blockage and allow the magic user’s own personal Pure Magic its own proper outlet. The moon’s phase is also of no importance. I can have sex with you on any day!

Three things are required for the proper sexual treatments to alleviate blocked pure and neutral magical release.

First of all, the teenage magic user suffering from blocked pure and neutral magical release will require a man who ejaculates Pure Magic along with his come. Most Healers do, as Healing Magic increases both the Pure Magic in my core, and the release of Pure Magic during orgasm.

Female magic users who suffer from pure and neutral magical release will require hormonal methods of birth control during each treatment session, as barrier and magical methods will interfere with the magical transfers. Not to mention, I hate condom spells and will come a lot faster if I can feel you properly. Of course, anal intercourse is also an option for preventing pregnancy. Plus, you will absolutely love anal. Discuss these options with me after you take off your clothes.

Have no fear, your Healer is not receiving any prurient or sexual enjoyment from ejaculating inside you, even without a condom spell! Healers quickly become accustomed to seeing naked patients, and knows the difference between a patient and a true sexual partner. No matter how he might stroke your arse, or what noises he might seem to make while ejaculating, know he is merely a Healer, grateful for the chance to treat yet another patient’s disorder.

Second of all, the patient will need a large supply of orgasm spell cloths. Female patients will require three times as many as men. A male patient should apply one cloth to his penis shortly before his Healer enters the room to initiate a treatment session. A female patient should apply one cloth to each breast and a third to her clitoral area.

Once you have applied the cloths, you should lie face down on the examination table, say “enter,” and ring the bell. The cloths will immediately begin caressing and stroking your sex organs in order to bring you to orgasm as soon as you are able to achieve it. When you orgasm, your body will be forced to release a small amount of the Tainted Magic that is interfering with your magic. The orgasm spell cloths will capture 100% of this Tainted Magic, affording your body the ability and opportunity to incorporate fully the Pure Magic that your Healer will then release.

It is very important that the patient always face away from the Healer during this sexual treatment, as the Magic that is expelled during orgasm has momentum, and travels away from the body. If any Tainted Magic should touch your Healer, it will slow his ability to treat your blocked pure and neutral magical release. The only exception to this requirement is fellatio, discussed below. Plus, if you can see my face, you might get the incorrect suspicion that I am enjoying fucking you.

Once you have applied the cloths and lain down, I will enter the room and adjust the exam table. The table easily changes to allow me to open it up, separate your legs, and see every bit of your lovely young arse. I will not only separate your legs, but I will bend them down. This gives you a chance to more effectively rub your cock or clit against the table. I love feeling you come while I am fucking you. Once you come around my dick, I will find it easy to flood you with both my come, and my Pure Magic. Right after Tainted Magic is pulled or expelled, getting flooded with Pure Magic feels amazing. Better than any illegal potion you have or will ever try. You are going to come to absolutely crave these sessions with my big dick. I am going to make you feel better than you can imagine while I Heal you.

A patient should set aside all of his or her inhibitions and enjoy the Healer’s physical attentions to the fullest possible extent. Sounds of pleasure, rhythmic movements, and encouraging words are all not only expected, but strenuously recommended. The faster you orgasm while your Healer thrusts his erection in and out of your vagina or anus (hopefully your arse, though), the sooner your Healer will be able to complete that day’s sexual treatment. Also, it helps me come when I know you love it.

If your Healer determines that your Tarred Blockage would benefit from applications of Pure Magic to not only the middle but the top of your person (which I always do), he may advise fellatio as a method of applying Pure Magic directly to your head and neck area. A Tarred Blockage that particularly blocks the head and neck can interfere and even distort the vast majority of Charms and a strong percentage of Transfigurative magic, and so if your blockage is determined to affect your head and neck particularly, then fellatio will almost certainly be prescribed.

Clearly, when you take your Healer’s erection into your mouth, you cannot be facing away from him, and so, in these instances, you will need to both keep all of your clothing on, and keep your stasis box as close as possible to facilitate the storage of your orgasm spell cloths as soon after your own orgasm as possible. It’s also best to keep your eyes closed.

However, no other restrictions need be placed on the act of fellatio. (Except of course that, as with anal and vaginal intercourse, your orgasm must occur first.) You may, therefore, wish to accept the head of your Healer’s penis into your throat, touch your Healer’s balls, stroke your Healer’s arse, and/or wrap your own hand around the shaft of your Healer’s dick. These are all great choices.

It may seem hard to believe, but do rest assured, even as your Healer thrusts over your pursed lips, accepts the caress of your hands on his cock, balls and arse, and pumps come down your throat: he is merely a humble practitioner of Healing Magic, and receives no prurient nor sexual enjoyment from getting sucked off by a patient. Especially since you are completely clothed while he fucks your mouth. It would be different if he could see your hot teenage body while you deep throat his dick.

And that’s all it takes! Be prepared to receive this simple, swift treatment a minimum of once a week for approximately three years. The more frequent your appointments, of course, the sooner you can be done with this course of treatment. It is not uncommon, however, for a need to arise occasionally in the first two or three years after you are cured, so your Healer will schedule six month follow-up visits. It is likely that he will prescribe a once-a-year or so fuck to keep a reemergence at bay, so come to your follow-up appointments expecting to get naked and get a big dicking! Especially if you’re hot!


End file.
